The Bet
by darlasmom
Summary: It was the only kind of bet he made anymore. And the stakes were impossibly high. Rated M for later chapters. Romance/Angst/Humor. Definitely BB, some Hodgela, and Zach!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, here goes! It's been a while since I attempted anything multichapter - I just simply have not had the time. But I'm just going to post this first chapter and see where it takes me. Probably set in early season 3, as I have to have my Zach in the fic. Oh yeah: Late-night post, possible boo-boos, yadda yadda yadda...you get the drift. Oh, and did I mention how much I appreciate all of your wonderful reviews?**

**THE BET**

Friday evening, seven o'clock. Although the staff at the Jeffersonian was almost fiendishly dedicated to their jobs, except for a select few they were either gone or leaving at this point. Most of the platform and office lights had been extinguished, rendering the unusually stylish lab mysterious and secretive. The relative quiet in the large space was broken by a loud, harassed voice. Through the long shadows marched a determined woman, with a very reluctant man in tow.

"Angela, where are you going **now**? And why do I have to come with you? Come on, what's this all about?" Never one to resist a mystery, Hodgins had been pestering the love of his life for fifteen minutes, as she refused to go home with him, and, even more peculiarly, refused to let go of his wrist. But she had remained very uncharacteristically mute, her only answer to him a mordant stare. "I mean, you're acting really strange, babe." When she stopped without warning, he skidded to a halt, just avoiding ramming into her. "Babe, what the hell?"

"Zach, there you are! I've been looking for you." Angela stared impatiently up at Zach, who was perched on the top step of the stairway to the lounge. "Why are you up there?"

Zach unfolded his legs and descended to their level. "They're having that argument again. I figured it was best to stay out of the way, until it's over, and I can get permission to go home. You know - the argument," he repeated, when she only stared blankly at him. "The argument they always have."

Angela's face registered disbelief. "Oh, for the love of Pete, can't they argue about anything else?" Her eyes did a slow, dramatic roll. "Wait, how silly of me. They argue about **everything**. Well, let's get in there before the shouting starts. Come on, Zach, let's go." She began to shepherd the two men in the direction of the offices.

*****

"I don't know why people can't just enjoy the physical aspect of sex, without creating emotional attachments to their sexual partners." Brennan signed off on the last report and handed placed it in her outbox. A small grin brightened her face. She and Booth were having the same old argument about romance versus sex, each falling into their established positions on the topic. They argued about this issue constantly - oddly enough, even after all this time, it was still rather stimulating. She carefully hid her smile from him. He would undoubtedly get cranky if he thought she was laughing at him.

Booth flinched. "Because, Bones, it's normal to develop affection for the person you're sleeping with – and hopefully, the affection comes first. That type of connection is very intimate. You can't keep emotion out of the mix."

"I can – I do it all the time."

He winced again, even more pronounced, his normal response at any mention of her romantic life. "Okay, that's way too much information for me – I don't need to know how often you 'do it'," he joked.

She sighed impatiently. "Don't try to distract me. You know that's not what I meant. I meant that I have physically intimate relationships all the time without the complication of emotions."

Leaning forward in his chair, he braced his elbows on his knees, holding her gaze. "See, that's where you go wrong, Bones. Emotions aren't a complication; they're what make a relationship truly special."

"And if there are emotions on one side and not the other?" She was becoming quite interested in Booth's answers regarding this matter. She'd been doing a lot of thinking, lately, about just this subject. Unfolding a paper clip, she stared covertly at him, waiting for his response. "How many times have we worked a case, only to find out in the end that the reason the crime was committed was that one person wanted more than the other?"

Now it was his turn to sigh. "I'm not saying it's always perfect, Bones." Wearily he rubbed his eyes. "You don't always find your true mate the first time out. But by allowing emotions to enter the mix, you open yourself to the possibility of finding that one special person."

She was instantly off and running, eager to express her opinion. "I object to the word 'mate' – it indicates that monogamy is normal for the human race, when in actuality a polygamous existence –"

He shook his head, pausing the argument for the time being. "Alright, don't start on that again. We'll just have to agree to disagree for now. But someday," he continued, his eyes gleaming with humor and something warmer, more intimate, "that special guy is gonna come into your life, and you're not gonna be able to distance yourself from it."

She frowned, suspicious. He liked to trip her up with semantics and his trademark illogical logic. If this was a trap, though, she couldn't see it. "From what?"

"Love."

She should have known. He was such an idealist. "True love is an imprecise, idealized concept propagated by fairy tale books and movies. There is no such thing as 'happily ever after'. The sooner people acknowledge that fact, the more fortunate they'll be." Briskly snapping shut her briefcase, she stood, slinging the strap over her shoulder and effectively ending the discussion. "Why are you still here?"

Blinking in surprise, he stood as well. "Wow, **that** was an abrupt change of subject." He wasn't offended – he knew she didn't mean it as an insult, but had asked simply because she was curious. He craned his head around, peering out toward the platform. "Angela asked me to meet her here at the end of the day, said she had something to ask me. Where the heck is she, anyway?"

"I'm right here." Herding an annoyed-looking Hodgins before her and dragging Zach by the elbow, Angela steamed into the office. "We're going out for drinks. I've finally got all of you together, and we are going out to have some fun."

Noting that Angela's back was turned, Booth spotted his opening and immediately started edging toward the door. "Well, I kinda promised my friend I'd meet him after work…"

"No. Do not move one more step." She pointed a finger at him. "You are going. End of discussion."

He pouted and dropped onto the couch, sulking. _Nice, Seeley. Army Ranger sniper and FBI Special Agent – and you know when to shut up and do as you're told. _Resigned to the inevitable, he eventually decided he might as well enjoy the rest of the show, and settled back to watch Angela bully, coerce, and otherwise convince the rest of the Squint Squad to party. Zach pretty much just went where he was told, so he was easy. Hodgins was tougher – he was more interested in going home with Angela - but she eventually won out over him, and he plopped down on the couch next to Booth with a peevish look on his face. But Bones…

"No, Angela. I don't care what you say. I'm **not** going out tonight. I'm completely exhausted – I was up most of the night finishing up the Carlyle matter. I doubt I got even three hours of sleep. I just want to go home and go to bed."

So that's why she looked tired, Booth mused. He hadn't mentioned it to her, but he'd noticed, all the same. Maybe that could be his out… "If Bones isn't going, I'm not going either." If he could get out of this, maybe he could convince her to join him for dinner before she went home.

"Or me!" chimed Hodgins. "I didn't want to go in the first place. And neither did Zach," he added for good measure, quickly sacrificing his friend. Zach rather intelligently kept his mouth shut.

"Stop, all of you!" Slim and determined, Angela stood in the doorway, completely blocking Brennan's escape route. "Sweetie, I hate to do this to you, but I **have** to do this to you." Her face firmed up, as if reaching a final decision. "I'm cashing one in."

"Oh, Angela, no!" Staring fixedly at her friend, Brennan's forward progress faltered and ground to a miserable halt. "Not tonight!"

Fascinated, Booth watched as all of Bones' determination seemed to disappear, and she quite visibly deflated, a look of horror spreading quickly across her features. He was intensely curious – he simply had to ask. "Okay, Bones, what is she cashing in, and what's wrong with you? Why are you making that trembly face?"

As Brennan seemed to have temporarily lost her ability to speak, Angela answered him. "We have a little 'Free Pass' agreement. Each year, we both get three free passes. If one person wants the other person to do something that they don't want to do – within reason – you can use the pass. It ends the argument – the other person has to do what you say."

Backed into a social corner, Brennan had no choice but to accede to her friend's request, but, tired as she was, couldn't help but grumble a bit. "I haven't used **any** of my passes on you," she mumbled snarkily.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Booth asked himself quietly. "Ah, Bones, if you haven't used any passes, whose fault is that?" The heat of her stare was easily felt by him, although he'd turned quickly away to avoid the Wrath of Bones.

"Yeah, Sweetie, I can't tell you how happy I would be if you actually used one of yours. That's kinda the whole point." She looked pointedly at Brennan. "Basically, this means that Bren is coming with us – we are **all** going out tonight."

"I don't have anything to wear, Angela." Brennan seemed ultimately prepared to accept her sentence, but she wasn't wearing the right clothes. The muddy jeans and old sweater she'd worn for her outdoor assignment were clearly unsuitable.

More prepared than any five-star general, her friend had carefully planned in advance. "Which is why I brought one of my outfits for you to wear. Come with me, dahling…" She began to drag Brennan from the room, but stopped as a sudden thought occurred to her. "If **any** of you try to sneak out while I'm gone, I will hunt you down and shoot you with Booth's gun." Her obsidian stare emphasized her forceful words. "I'm not kidding. Stay."

In the sudden silence left after the door shut, Booth and Hodgins exchanged uncomfortable glances. Hodgins shot him a sour grin and, after several moments, was the first to break the silence. "Dude, getting shot with your own gun would totally suck."

Scowling, Booth leaned over, crowding him. "Getting shot **at all** totally sucks. Wanna try it?" _Good – that shut him up._ The last thing he needed was to spar with a squint tonight. He already did that every day. And Hodgins was definitely not as pretty as Bones. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zach raise his hand, and testily rolled his eyes. _What is with this kid? _"What, Zach? Why are you raising your hand?"

"I have a question, but you're obviously out of sorts, and I don't want to be shot."

"Just ask your question, already." When Zach merely stared uncertainly at him, he relented. "I promise I won't shoot you. What's your question?"

"Well, if Hodgins is Angela's date, and you're Dr. Brennan's date, who is my date?"

"What?" _I shouldn't have promised not to shoot him. _ He threw another bad-tempered glare at Hodgins, who hastily stopped mid-laugh. _"_I am **not** Bones' date – we're all just going out, **as co-workers**, for drinks. No dating going on." He saw Zach's mouth open again and quickly threw up his hand, rushing to stop what was undoubtedly another awkward inquiry. "No more questions from squints, okay? Just…just sit over there quietly, until we go." Several moments passed, and he began to relax slightly. _Maybe this will be okay – I'll have a couple of beers, maybe a scotch, and hop the rails home. This'll be a pretty quick night._

"Okay, boys, we're ready – who wants to drive? 'Cause I can tell you, Brennan and I are going to be drinking!" Angela sashayed into the room, Brennan following slowly behind.

Booth felt the air rapidly being siphoned out of his lungs. Angela's clothes definitely ran to the more dramatic, and they'd truly found a happy home on Bones. Endless amounts of creamy skin were offset by fabric in contrasting streams of olive, russet and gold. The cut of the short dress was definitely designed with Angela in mind – Bones' curvier body threatened to breach the boundaries of the luxurious material. The strappy sandals in a matching metallic shade were distressingly high, with the corresponding length of leg even more unsettling. The hues underscored her delicate coloring, but the real focus was her face. Bronze color was slicked along her curved lips, highlighting her alluring cupid's bow mouth. Eyes so smoky, so _hot_ that he needed that first beer now. Right now. Or maybe a scotch. Carefully staring at a spot just above her head, his attention was then drawn to her softly tousled hair. He swallowed convulsively and looked in a different direction entirely.

"Wow, Dr. Brennan, hubba hubba!" Hodgins leaned back, perusing her new look.

Brennan's cheeks pinked becomingly. From an objective standpoint she knew she was attractive, but she always felt out of place when dressed more alluringly. But the reactions she'd received upon re-entering the room were quite gratifying. While Hodgin's response had been pleasing, her stomach had tingled and pitched when she saw the look in Booth's eyes. Before he looked away completely, that is. _I look good. _Gathering her purse and keys, she allowed Angela to herd her toward the door with the rest of the group._  
_

His blood roiling, Booth quickly snapped at Hodgins, feeling the evening begin to slip beyond his control. "Hey! Watch it with the hubba hubba business!"

He'd never been more wrong – this was going to be a very long night.

**I'd like to know if anyone thinks I should continue - thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, you get chapter 2, a little sooner than expected. I worked out my issues with it (such a problem child), so I figured, why wait? Now, on to fighting with chapter 3...it's bound to be a knock-down, drag out. Hope you like this!**

The crowd seemed a little young, the music a little old. Booth leaned against the bar, holding a stool for Bones while she danced with Angela. The DJ was mixing new hits with older selections, with an emphasis on Motown and Stax artists. Martha Reeves & the Vandelas had just given way to Isaac Hayes, and the girls were going crazy for the retro mix. He had to laugh at the two of them – at Bones, especially. Angela whirling madly to Sam and Dave was something he would have expected, but Bones – he chuckled again. She'd only had one drink. But her exhaustion was finishing the job, and she was writhing and twisting to the music in a way that kept seizing his attention. The dramatic flashing lights and smoke machines added an almost mythical quality to her movements – she seemed to be moving quickly and in slow motion, all at the same time. _There should be a law against hips like that._ He stopped himself instantly, castigating himself for ogling his partner. _Very classy, Seeley. _ He drained his third scotch, after making sure he still had enough money for the Metro. _No driving tonight, old boy._ So much for his hopes for an early night – apparently, they were going to close the bar. _Thank God tomorrow's Saturday._

"So, which are you?"

Booth blinked, dragged his focus off of the dance floor. "Which **what** am I?"

"Are you an ass man or a breast man?" Hodgins drained his fourth cocktail and passed the empty to Zach. "I'm definitely an ass man, and Zach…well, I can't even tell you what **he** is, it's too embarrassing."

His innate investigative tendencies aroused by this snippet of information, Booth cocked an eyebrow at the two men. "Well, hell, you **have** to tell me now – you can't just start something like that and leave it hanging…"

Zach stepped forward, emboldened by the beer Hodgins had been pouring down his throat all evening. "I'm a brain man."

"Huh? You're a **what**?" Booth blinked, certain he hadn't heard him correctly. Behind him, Hodgins sniggered quietly into his fifth drink.

"A brain man." He could see that Booth didn't understand, and hastened to explain. "I want to be with a woman who is very intelligent, so I won't have to keep explaining myself."

Hodgins gave up the fight and started laughing like a hyena, spilling a good portion of his drink on the floor. After a brief internal battle, Booth decided to take pity on Zach. "I think he meant what **physical** aspect of a woman gets you the most interested."

"Oh." Zach frowned for a moment as he concentrated. "Then I guess I'm a hair man. I find that I act very irrationally when I'm out on a date and the woman has long, shiny hair."

"What color?" pressed Booth, intrigued by the information Zach was supplying. _Maybe there's hope for him yet._

"It doesn't matter. Any color is fine, as long as it's shiny and reaches to the middle of her back. I'm much more open to suggestion when the woman in question fulfills or exceeds those parameters."

"Yeah, beautiful hair is definitely a plus in a woman." Booth decided that Zach wasn't a total lost cause, and stared pointedly at Hodgins until the laughter ceased. "You should stick with that."

"You didn't answer the question, Booth." Eagerly awaiting Booth's response, Hodgins shifted on the balls of his feet.

Feigning forgetfulness, he switched his attention to Hodgins. "About what?"

Zach leaned forward, answering for his friend. "What you like in a woman. You never told us."

"And I don't plan on telling you. There are some things that are on a need-to-know basis only." Pleased, he slowly sipped his scotch and waited for the volcano to blow. Hodgins sober was fun to wind up; Hodgins drunk was even better.

Hodgins bulled between Zach and Booth, unable to resist the lure of classified information. "Oh, c'mon, man, that's not fair! We told you what type we like, now **you** have to tell **us**! That's how this works! So, ass man or breast man?"

Booth simply smiled and leaned back against the bar, swirling his scotch.

"I'll find out, you know. I'm all about revealing the truth!" Disgusted, Hodgins tossed back the remainder of his drink and plowed through the crowd, heading toward the girls. Quite content to not know the truth - and definitely smart enough to know not to ask - Zach happily watched the action around him and finished yet another beer.

Booth smirked at Hodgins' retreating back. _Go ahead and try, see what you find out. _Hodgins wouldn't get anything he didn't want to give him_. _Remembering his previous interest in the dance floor – and its occupants - Booth took the opportunity to spot the girls, his eyes seeking out and quickly finding his partner. She was still dancing, but the strain of the long day was beginning to tell. Even tired, though, she was by far the most beautiful woman in the room. _I'm a Bones man. _He frowned. Where had that come from? _Okay – better slow down on the drinking, boy-o_. Judging from his constant – and very unprofessional – surveillance of Bones, he'd definitely had more than enough. He shook himself mentally as she made her way back to the bar, followed by Angela and Hodgins. _Behave yourself._

"Phew, that was fun! See, sweetie, I knew you'd have fun if you came out with us." Angela slid gracefully onto her stool, rubbing her hands together excitedly. "Aren't you glad you came?"

"I will admit that it was rather enjoyable, Ange, but I'm glad we're taking a break for a bit. I'm really pretty tired." A pleasant haze was drifting through Brennan's mind, numbing everything, even the pain in her feet from the borrowed shoes. Her muscles were pleasantly loose and warm, and the mix of alcohol and fatigue was making her appreciate everything around her even more than normal – including her companions. An easy sigh escaped her, and she relaxed mindlessly, leaning carelessly backward.

Booth's heart began to pound erratically; his pulse increasing rapidly. Without thinking, Brennan had leaned back against him, pressing her entire back – _naked back, thank you_ – against him. The delicate scent of warm woman teased his nose, the fragrance vastly superior even to his beloved apple pie. He fought desperately to control his reaction. She was just tired; she didn't realize what she was doing. _What she was doing was killing him._ "Bones?"

She yawned hugely, her head tipping back onto his shoulder with a tired _plop_. "Mmm. What, Booth? What's the matter?" She leaned even more completely, knowing he wouldn't let her fall. "You wanna dance? 'We can – in a minute. I need a break first." Her slender, pale hand slipped upward, laying a casual pat on his cheek. "You could buy me another drink while we wait…"

"No more for you, Bones. Tonight, one is enough. You're half-asleep already." His skin was vibrating where she'd caressed him. Actually vibrating, he could swear it. He was used to standing strong against the daily temptation of Temperance Brennan, but this was simply ridiculous. He puffed out a shallow breath of air and tried again. "You sure you wanna dance with me? It seems like Girls Night Out tonight." As she'd danced earlier, he'd had to dip into his very shallow well of restraint several times as men constantly approached the two women. But their hopes for a little bump and grind had been crushed every time, as Angela and Bones kept waving them absently away. _Which is good – I __**really**__ don't wanna have to hurt anyone tonight._

She frowned at him, more confused than displeased. "You don't have to get a drink for me if you don't want to, Booth. I'll just buy a round. Who wants another drink?" Brennan fiddled her hands around behind her, fingers brushing low against him as she dug in the small purse looped diagonally over her shoulders.

He jolted like a teenager at the sensation, flushing darkly in reaction. As if by silent summons, his eyes met Angela's. She stared at him, her eyes full of merriment, fully aware of his dilemma but quite unwilling to help him solve it. _You're on your own, Bucko._ She might as well have said it aloud, he could see it so clearly in her face. Looking at the ceiling, he closed his eyes in distress at the sensation as the rest of the squint squad chimed in their drink requests. Before he could stop her, she rattled off her order to the bartender, including another cocktail for herself. That snapped him out of his funk quickly enough. _No, this is no good. She's too tired. She starts having more drinks, she's gonna slide right off that stool._ "Hey, Bones." He grabbed her shoulder, distracting her. "How 'bout that dance?"

"Now? But I just ordered more drinks…I – " But Booth was already drawing her away from the bar and into the crowd, and she was just too tired to care. "Alright." She had wanted to dance with him, anyway. She just hadn't wanted to seem too eager. That wouldn't do at all.

Swinging her in a circle as The Supremes sang about hurrying love, Booth smoothly moved her around the dance floor, taking care not to overtax her physically. _She really is beat – she wasn't kidding._ She still seemed to be enjoying herself, however, and they stayed on the floor through several old hits. Suddenly, the DJ announced a slow dance set, and before Booth could even blink, Bones had gravitated toward him, locking her wrists behind his neck. Unfortunately, that meant that his hands had only one place to go – her back. Which was, to his great consternation, still naked. Reluctantly he slid his arms around her, already wishing he was somewhere else. Anywhere but here, looking at her. Her eyes shone like dual stars in a winter sky; not static, but constantly changing, shining, beckoning. He knew her half-lidded stare was due to her lack of sleep, but his libido kept conjuring her as a temptress trying her best to break him.

Her system was powering down rapidly. Added to that was the vague but increasing throb from her feet. Booth's support was a welcome reinforcement, and she clutched him gratefully. As they swayed, she became aware of a pulsing ache in her midsection; not really a pain. Not really unpleasant at all. "I forget the name of this song."

"It's Otis Redding. 'These Arms of Mine'." _Yeah, worst possible song they could have played right now._

"Oh yes, that's right." Her head, tipped slightly back, lolled gently from side to side as they swayed. "I love this song."

With her arms over his shoulders, they were face to face, and the heels put her almost at a height with him. Her face was open, unguarded; her eyes full of mystery. She cocked her head in consideration, as if measuring him for a very intimate experiment. Booth looked searchingly at her. "What is this, Bones?"

Instead of answering him, she shifted, and her head drifted down to his shoulder. With a small sigh she settled snugly against him, her hands brushing slowly down, nipping underneath his arms and claiming his waist. Instinctively, his arms tightened, and she burrowed closer, turning her face toward him, pressing her cheek into his shirt. "I was right."

At her soft words, her warm breath trickled along his skin, causing an immediate, unconscious reaction throughout his entire body. His arms pulled her even closer; his fingers pressed firmly against her skin. Staring at the far wall, he tried desperately to remember that this was his _partner_, that there was a line he couldn't cross. "About what?"

"We fit." A tilt of her head brought her lips softly in contact with his neck. "I thought we would." She took another step, somehow bringing their bodies even tighter against one another.

"Bones…" The feel of her lips rubbing against his neck as she spoke was tearing at his control. He had to stop this, and stop it quickly. But his body had other plans. Whatever wise thing he'd planned to say, whatever responsible words had been about to drop from his mouth crumbled into dust as he felt her hands duck under the back of his shirt. The soft pads of her fingers were a gentle, subtle torture, rubbing, stroking in tiny circles against his skin, just above his pants. Spirals of heat spread, radiating outward from the spot where skin met skin and heat met heat. A soft tickle against his cheek tempted him, and as he turned his head, the sweet scent rising from her hair dazzled him. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he swallowed rapidly, trying hard to regain some willpower. "We've danced before, Bones."

"Mmm, not like this. This is…" She exhaled, her breath puffing against his neck as she searched for the right word. "…better." Rubbing her lips along his neck, she filled her lungs with his masculine scent. "I can smell you this way."

He felt his blood rushing south at her blunt, unintentionally erotic words, and tried to think of something, anything to distract himself. A faint sweat sprang up on his brow. This was just not fair. Not fair at all. Here she was, soft, beautiful, pliant in his arms – everything he'd ever wanted. And nothing he could ever have. Struggling valiantly against his instinctive urge to _take_, he backed up, hoping to give himself some room. His effort was foiled. She'd been allowing him to lead – when he took several tense steps backward, she simply moved fluidly with him, clinging tighter at the unexpected change in direction. His failed attempt to escape had only landed him in more trouble – they were now swaying at the edge of the crush of people, away from the lights at the center of the dance floor. Bathed in darkness, they were hidden from view – just one of a sea of couples moving, embracing. Unseen.

He could do anything he wanted.

When the thought rippled through his mind, he froze, standing stock-still as the crowd eddied around them. The abrupt lack of motion did not trigger any higher awareness in her. She merely leaned against him, breathing slowly, deeply. Her fingers ceased circling and veered lower on his waist, edging under his jeans. Panic mushroomed in him as he went suddenly, viciously rock-hard from head to toe. Some things were just not meant to be endured, and this was one of them. "Temperance…Temperance, you have to stop." The alarm in his voice shamed him, but he simply couldn't contain it. Fear had him in a stranglehold – fear that he would do something unforgivable. That he would ruin what they had.

"Hmmm? Stop what?" never before had she been so at ease, so _relaxed_. With all the muscle and sinew, his body should have been hard, uncomfortable. Strangely, it was not – their bodies melded together perfectly, her lithe softness the perfect match for his raw strength. _My own Seeley bed…_ pleased with her witticism, she smiled and dipped her fingers just a bit lower, humming her satisfaction as his fingers dug even deeper into her.

_ChristJesus._ The bar. If he could just get her over to the bar, he knew he could get Angela to take her home. Before he jumped her like a sex-starved lunatic._ Bones-starved lunatic, more like. _Hoping to send a distress signal to Angela and Hodgins – not that they'd listen, the traitors, but he had to try – he glanced over at the bar. The seats they'd occupied were empty. Trying to avoid panicking even further, he swept his gaze around the room, sure that they'd simply moved to a table, because, _God_, they weren't gone. They couldn't be gone.

Oh, shit. They were gone. One single soft, sweet sigh floated up past his ears, sounding for all the world like a death knell to his overtaxed system. One thought kept spinning wildly in his head until it crowded out everything else.

_What the hell am I going to do now?_

**Thoughts? Like? Dislike? (I really hope it's like...)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well. I fought my way through the worst case of Story Block I've ever had, thank goodness! I'm still not one hundred percent satisfied, but that could just be me being silly. I really hope you like it!**

**THE BET**

They'd left him. They'd up and left him here, alone, tied up in knots with Bones pulling the ends ever tighter. For one frightening, tempting moment, the little voice in his head said _good_. She was tucked so close to him, he could feel every inch of her up against every inch of him, and damned if it didn't feel pretty fucking amazing. Then she sighed again, a little, tired wisp of sound that slapped him back into reality. With one single, decisive movement, he finally freed himself from their combined embrace.

Dizzy from exhaustion and taken unaware by his actions, she stumbled backward, only stopping when he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. But not like before. He was carefully keeping as much distance as possible between them. Blinking, trying to clear the clouds from her mind, she at last locked in on his expression, and she trembled at what she saw. He didn't want her. Yet again, he was as good as telling her he found her undesirable. As much as it hurt, at some point she'd stopped wondering at it. They were colleagues, partners, friends. That had been enough. Just lately, though, it had stopped being enough. Being in close physical proximity to him every day, the tiny ember of longing that she'd tried to douse had instead been nursed along, flaring up at the most inopportune moments. Her partner's behavior had not helped matters any. Booth himself had begun to act in a way that made her think she might not be the only one who was wavering. _I don't understand…it seemed like he wanted me. He __**did**__ want me – I think. _The confusion inside her was now running alongside hurt, with resentment a close third. _I'm tired of all these mixed signals, damnit. I'm not good at this. _

Jerking her shoulders testily, she pulled free from his grasp and turned on her heel, heading for the bar. She wasn't about to hang around him like a loser, thirsty for affection. Before she'd taken three steps, she sensed his presence next to her, his solid heat transmitting to her even though their bodies were no longer touching. She should've known he wouldn't have the sense to just let her go. Drawing herself in, she flicked a careful, disinterested glance up at him. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm bringing you home."

"I'll go home with Angela and Hodgins. Don't worry about me." Her tone was brisk with dismissal. It was a tone that sent most normal people scurrying away. Not surprisingly, it didn't work on him.

Unfazed, he kept his hand on her, kept his eyes on her, as they reached the bar. "You can't - they left."

A flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes, and she forgot her annoyance for a moment as she searched the crowd. "They left? When did they leave?"

"I'm not sure, but they're definitely not here. Look, just let me take care of the tab and I'll take you home."

"I already told you, Booth, I don't need you to worry about me. For your information, I'm perfectly capable of taking the Metro all by myself. I'm a big girl."

"That's what I'm worried about." Oh shit, had he just said that out loud? Yep, he thought as he watched her eyes narrow menacingly; he'd said it out loud. _Great._

"You know, Booth, you take entirely too much responsibility on yourself. I never gave you the right to hover over me. As you've seen in the past, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself." Her blood was beginning to heat, her annoyance feeding off the hurt until she was stiff with righteous anger. "You seem to have appointed yourself my guardian. I can assure you, it's not necessary. There's no need for you to bother."

"What? What do you mean, no need to bother? It's not a bother." This conversation was tanking, and fast. He'd have to try reasoning with her, try to be logical. "Look, I know you can take care of yourself – normally. But you're exhausted; even you have to admit that you're not one hundred percent. Your reaction time is significantly slower than usual, and let's face it," he quipped, pointing at her feet in an attempt to lighten her mood, "those are not the best shoes for a fight."

"Oh, really? I seem to be performing satisfactorily in them right now."

He'd been calm, knowing she was only reacting to the admittedly inconsistent way he'd acted on the dance floor. He'd had no right to let them get that close to each other, as much as he might have wanted it. But why did she have to be so stubborn_? _He felt frustration rising, and struggled to contain it. He would be issuing ultimatums next – and that was definitely not a good idea. "Bones, c'mon. You know what I mean. You can be angry at me if you want, but I would really feel much better if we headed home together." He flashed a grin, hoping to disarm her. "It'd be less boring…"

Although she defiantly crossed her arms, she found herself, as usual, softening toward him as he offered his rationale. She began to consider the logical points of his argument. She **was** very tired. And her feet hurt quite a bit, now that she wasn't leaning on him. If her feelings hurt more than her feet – well, no one had to know that but her. She'd been alone for most of her life. She didn't need anyone. Adopting her usual calm demeanor, she smiled. "I suppose you're right. If you're sure it won't be too much trouble for you, I'd appreciate it."

"Why would it be too much trouble?" he asked, sincerely confused. He escorted her everywhere these days, as often as possible. It was his _thing_. He waved his credit card at the bartender, only to pull it back in surprise when the man indicated that nothing was due. "Alright, Bones – I don't know why the hell they left us here, but we'll worry about it later. Let's head out." Subtly scanning her body language, he suspected she wouldn't welcome his hand on her back right now, and settled for following her out onto the street.

*****

"Two hundred dollars!"

"One hundred-eighty dollars."

"Same thing!"

"Oh, come on. It's not like you can't afford it." Angela spared Hodgins a brief glance before settling back in the taxi. Her lips quirked slightly. He'd been fuming and sputtering for the last twenty minutes. The instant Brennan and Booth had taken to the dance floor, she'd announced that the rest of them were leaving. Unwilling to stick them with the tab, however, she'd nagged at Hodgins until he paid it in full. Since then, he'd kept up a steady stream of complaints directed toward anyone who would listen. As Zach was the only other passenger in the cab with them, and Zach was asleep, she was getting the brunt of what she would term his 'liquor-soaked male bitchiness'.

"That's not the point! See, this is why I didn't want anyone to know about my family – from now on, it's gonna be, 'Sure, stick Hodgins with the bill, he's rich, he won't care'." He flung himself into his corner of the backseat, crossing his arms. "How the hell did we drink so much, anyway?"

"It's what's known as a normal Friday night out with friends, Bug Man. Be sure to take notes and memorize my teachings, and you too can live a semi-normal life."

"Okay, that was uncalled-for." Leaning toward her, he looped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. "You're being entirely too brutally honest and nefarious tonight." He grinned, his direct stare locking onto her before he dropped a brief kiss on her lips. "I like it."

"Hey, baby, brutally honest and nefarious are on my birth certificate." She snuggled into him, tapping her fingers against his chest.

"After Pearly Gates, you mean?"

Her lively laughter filled the backseat, causing Zach to stir and wake. "Are we home yet?"

"No, Zach, not yet. Go back to sleep."

"I'd rather not. I've been having nightmares."

Sitting forward, Hodgins peeked curiously at him. "What about?"

"I keep dreaming that Agent Booth comes into the office on Monday and shoots all of us for leaving him and Dr. Brennan at the bar."

"Okay, Zach, Booth wouldn't do that." Hodgins' cocksure attitude suddenly took a nosedive. "I hope." While he was certain Booth wouldn't shoot them, well, a fist in the face wouldn't feel very good, either. Peering at Angela again, he decided to lay the blame for their possible deaths where it belonged. "You know, it'll be all your fault if he comes into the office loaded for bear."

Spangled earrings jingled and dipped as she jerked her head carelessly. "Feh. Booth doesn't scare me."

"No, of course he doesn't. Booth would never hit a woman – he's not gonna knock **your** head completely off your body."

She sneered delicately. "Don't worry; you can hide behind my skirts. C'mon, babe, where're those tough-guy cojones I've heard about?"

"What was up with the sudden cash and dash, anyway? Are you crazy? You know Brennan hates it when you meddle in her life."

I wasn't meddling, I was just…facilitating. Big difference. Meddling would be if I tried to create something out of nothing. Facilitating is when I clear the path for something that's there, and everyone _knows_ it's there, but neither of them will _admit_ it's there, but it's there."

"Okay, **that **was confusing – and yet I understood you. You know, Brennan's bound to be just as pissed at us as Booth."

She finally relented, patting him lightly on the cheek. "Bren was seriously getting her tired on, so I doubt anything even happened. Knowing the two of them, they probably finished dancing, went to the diner so Booth could have his pie, and went home. Look - if they come in with attitudes, I hereby grant you permission to blame all of this on me. **I'll** deal with them."

Grudgingly, he snuggled up to her again. "Well, if you're gonna be reasonable about it…" He nuzzled her neck, whispering in her ear. "How 'bout I hide **under** your skirts, instead?"

Zach surrendered to sleep again, lulled by the buttery female giggle slipping through his consciousness.

*****

She hadn't lasted five minutes. Her hurt and annoyance hadn't stood a chance against the exhaustion. The minute the gentle sway of the metrorail began, her eyes had started drooping, and now her head was solidly planted on his shoulder. Watching the yellow line stops go by, he took advantage of the downtime to replay the events of the evening.

He'd been an idiot, no doubt about it. She'd been tired, hadn't known, not really, what she was doing. He was supposed to be a gentleman. He should have stopped what happened, before it went so far. And now she was upset. He couldn't blame her, really. He'd acted like an idiot. But he'd been so weak, and it had felt _so damned good_. He just hoped she'd forgive him for taking advantage. The announcement board lit up, indicating that their stop was next. He looked down at the top of her head, at her hand lax on his thigh, and couldn't help but smile. They were best friends, partners. They'd get past this – they'd gotten past worse.

"Bones." She shifted, murmured, but didn't wake. "Hey, Bones. C'mon, wake up. It's our stop." Long black lashes flickered, fluttered. His stomach tensed in answer, and he quickly quashed the response. She was tired as hell; he needed to get her home. "You awake?"

Brennan sat up quickly, pressed a hand against her eyes for a brief, indulgent moment. "I'm awake." She glanced back at him, then his shoulder, before meeting his eyes again. A quick, almost shy smile flitted over her lips. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. We're here, you ready?" He stood and offered her his hand, surprised when she took it. They made their way off the train and headed to the taxi stand.

After several minutes of searching for a cab in vain, she turned to him. "This stand is terrible, Booth. We might as well walk."

He frowned at her. "You sure?"

"Yes, I am most definitely sure. It's not that far, and I want to go to bed."

He tried not to react to her statement, but something must have shown on his face, because she looked at him strangely for a long moment, before walking slowly away. Shaking his head, he followed.

After several minutes, he noticed her feet dragging, and decided to take a chance. Casually draping his arm around her, he tugged her closer to him. "It's not too much further now, Bones." She didn't answer him, but didn't pull away, either, and he let out a quiet sigh, relief and tension mixing together.

They walked quietly, and he enjoyed the beautiful sights and sounds of the city, and the feel of his partner against him, the gentle motion of her hips as she walked. He chuckled to himself. He truly had a flair for torturing himself.

Little by little, as they walked, she began leaning more and more against him, until finally, about two blocks from her building, her head once again settled gently on his shoulder. He stopped when they reached her building and peered down at her, but her eyes were tightly shut. "You okay, Bones?" When she didn't answer him, he smiled softly. "Bones."

"Hmm…"

"Bones?" He tapped her shoulder until she wearily lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes, so dark, sleepy, and goddamned appealing, focused on him, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lower his head and fit his lips to hers. For an instant she froze, and he panicked, waiting for her reaction. When it came, however, it wasn't what he expected. She turned toward him, pushing closer, and sank into him, responding lazily. His hands slid up her arms, gripped her shoulders, and he deepened the kiss, tensing when her hands slid around his waist to clutch at him. Why had he ever thought _this_ would be a bad idea? His stand against having a relationship with her was rapidly eroding; in fact, he was having trouble at the moment remembering just _why_ he'd been against it. Her lips were so generous, so warm and _perfect_, that several minutes passed before he regained his senses. "Bones, stop." He gently extricated himself from her, pushing lightly on her shoulders. "We should stop."

"I don't understand." Frowning, she looked at him, her eyes clouded with hurt and confusion.

"We shouldn't do this, not tonight. We need to talk. You're tired, and it's late – I should get you home."

Not trusting herself to speak, she turned and hurried away from him, down the street. Home, yes, she had to get home, she couldn't let him see how he'd hurt her. Stumbling slightly, she came to an abrupt halt when Booth took her arm. Her intense stare lanced over to him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you home. What do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't want you to take me home. I don't need your help, Booth - I wouldn't dream of imposing." Her forward progress was again arrested when he tightened his grip.

"Alright, what is all this about imposing? Why would you think you're imposing on me?"

"I'm just trying to relieve you of your burden. I don't want you to feel obligated."

"Bones, what the **hell** are you talking about?"

"Booth, it's alright, really. I thought you might be interested, and I was wrong." Swallowing hard, she looked away from him. "I won't make that mistake again. I'd like to go home."

He was about to let her go, just escort her to her building and let it all go for the night, when he saw a suspicious shimmer in her eyes. He easily blocked her path. "Well, I'd like to talk about this. I'm sorry about before, Bones –"

"I think you made it quite clear tonight that you aren't interested in becoming intimately involved. I had come to the realization that I am physically attracted to you, and I thought it seemed like you felt the same. I apologize for the erroneous presumption."

A team of mules couldn't have moved him from in front of her now. "What did you just say?" He tilted his head, scrutinizing her.

"You heard me, Booth. Get out of my way – I've had enough, I'm going home."

When he didn't step aside, she began to shove angrily past, but his fingers circled her wrist and he pulled her firmly back to him. Though he knew he was taking his life in his hands, he'd somehow ceased to care. A bright flame was beginning to burn hotter and hotter inside him - leaning close, he kept stepping forward until she had no choice but to move back. "Not interested. _Really_. You think I'm not interested."

"Booth, what are you doing?" The look in his eye wasn't one she'd ever seen before. Although she wasn't good at reading moods, his expression made her breath back up in her throat. The way he was looking at her made her feel…exposed, somehow.

Lust spiking in him until there was room for nothing else, he crowded her again until her thighs bumped the fender of a parked car. "Apparently I've made a complete mess of this. Let me _enlighten_ you." He jerked her close, held her fast. Hungrily he took her mouth, ruthlessly using his own, satisfied when she trembled and moaned against his lips. He ground his hips against hers, darkly pleased when she undulated in answer. Her lips were soft, her body was soft, and his needs were sharp. He let himself go in a way he'd never thought he would, suddenly determined that she know the truth about his attraction to her.

She couldn't think, could barely breath. The feel of his body, hard and ready against hers, pressing her against the unyielding metal of the car, was overwhelming in its intensity. His mouth against hers was driving her crazy. Unable to do more than clutch him tightly, she gasped as she felt him grab her.

His hands wrapped around her waist, and with a quick flexing of muscle, he set her on the car and moved even closer, snugging solidly between her legs. Finally, after another desperate embrace, he was forced to finally stop to breathe, and he watched her, gratified with the way her eyes had dilated. The way her lips had parted. "Do you understand, now?"

She smiled and her hands slid up his back, pulling him closer. "More."

He would've laughed, if his body wasn't screaming furiously at him to _keep going_. Reluctantly, he eased away, pulling her down to her feet. "As much as I'd like that, we have to talk before this goes any further. We both need some time to think about what we want. You know I'm right," he said when he saw she wanted to argue. "You know this is too important."

"I know what I want, Booth. I don't need time to think."

"But I do, Bones. I don't want to fuck this up. It's important to me. You don't want to think about it, but you need to." He walked her to the entrance of her building. "Give it the weekend, give **me** the weekend. We'll talk Monday, I promise. I need some time, and you need some rest." His muscles relaxed when she eventually nodded in agreement. "Go ahead in, now."

He stayed until the elevator doors closed, watching her watch him. The minute he could no longer see her he sagged, rubbing his hand against his chest. "Oh my God. Please don't let me fuck this up." Head down, he started walking. A good long walk was perfect – there was no way in hell he'd be able to sleep tonight.

**Well - should I fight for another chapter? I hope you enjoyed it, I actually do like it, I think. Thanks so much for reading, and if you feel like giving me some feedback, it would certainly be most appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay. I spanked my inner Sally Fields, shook myself, and got back into the fic writing business. And promptly lost my computer for a day or two when it crashed. Stupid technology. Anyhow, chapter three is finally ready, and, once again, I really hope you enjoy it!**

**THE BET**

Brennan typed the same passage for the third time in fifteen minutes. And for the third time in the same fifteen minutes, highlighted the selection and deleted it. Bracing her hands on her desk, she shoved, hard, sending her chair rolling back into the shelves lining her wall in a rare show of temper. _Damn it_. She wasn't getting anything done. It was noon on Monday, and Booth was coming by to take her to lunch. So they could _talk_. Her breath hissed out as she paced around her office. She detested being edgy; absolutely _abhorred_ it. Nervousness was for people who didn't have control. People who weren't in charge. Carefully she schooled her expression and dropped to the couch. If one body would just arrive, _one_ body to examine, she wouldn't be so jumpy. But work had been deplorably slow lately. She'd been working on the bodies in Limbo nonstop, it had been so quiet. She would feel calmer once they'd talked, she knew she would.

She'd been angry with Booth, the night he'd stopped them from going further. He'd claimed to need time to think, and said she needed time as well. Time she'd taken. She hadn't been able to think of anything else all weekend, and she'd come to some conclusions. First, there was no longer any question of whether or not he was attracted to her. Smiling, she absently rubbed her finger against her lips, remembering the way he'd come after her. No, no question at all. Second, she had to admit that he'd been right – they did need to think about this before a decision was made. Once she'd gotten some sleep – amazingly, she _had_ slept, after being so agitated – she'd realized that he had a point. This was a big step, and the most logical course of action was to broach the subject with the other party, state a list of requirements, and then take time to carefully consider all viable options.

She desired him, badly. It eased her tension quite a bit as she once again remembered his actions from the other night. He felt something for her; there could be no doubt of it now. She smiled happily. By the end of the day, she'd be feeling much better. And so would he. She'd make sure of it.

Firming her shoulders, she returned to her desk, resolving to finish the next chapter. And spent the next twenty minutes staring into space.

*****

"No, it's not a Dinoflagellate, the morphology is wrong. Whatever this organism is, it's displaying Quorum sensing, so I'm having a tough time nailing it down right now." Hodgins snapped off his gloves and tossed them at Zach.

"Does that mean I can have the mandible now? I have to examine it for Dr. Brennan."

"Where is Dr. Brennan, anyway? I haven't seen her all morning." At a light touch on his back, Hodgins twisted to the side. "Hey, babe, what's up?"

"I don't know, but _something_ is up, that's for sure." Angela's eyes were gleaming, and she was shooting off sparks like a Fourth of July sparkler. "I think something happened on Friday night!"

Immediately cueing in to her meaning, Hodgins leaned closer. "Really. Did Dr. B say anything?"

"No. Nothing." At his confused stare, she only grew more excited. "Don't you see? When nothing has happened between them, Bren always tells me that nothing happened between them. Today, I bugged her for twenty minutes and she told me _nothing_. Zip. Zilch. Zippo. She didn't deny or admit, she just clammed up like a Brennan Clam."

Confused, Zach frowned. "There's no such thing as a Brennan Clam, Angela. I believe your description is incorrect."

Hodgins merely rolled his eyes and went to another station for his test results. "Hopeless."

She laughed sympathetically. "Zach, it's just a figure of speech for when Brennan zips it and won't say anything, no matter how much you – okay, **I** – pry. Ooh, this is a good sign!" She jiggled and rubbed her hands together, only sobering when she saw a brief flash of dismay sprint across Zach's face as he clutched his clipboard to him as if it was a shield. _Oh boy._ She turned, flashed a huge smile. "Hi, Booth!"

"Angela." Booth stood behind her, immobile as a statue, his expression completely unreadable. His manner was not encouraging. "Mind telling me where you disappeared to on Friday night?"

"Oh, we were tired; we just decided to call it a night. Hey, Jack, Booth's here!"

Her quick warning was in vain; Hodgins hadn't been paying attention to where he was walking, and his distracted path brought him solidly in contact with Booth. It was like bouncing off a brick wall. A very annoyed brick wall. He quickly put some distance between himself and the taller, quite visibly irritated man. "Hey, Booth. How are ya'?"

He impatiently crossed his arms. "I'd be a lot **better** if someone explained to me why the three of you deserted us at the bar on Friday. Well, the two of you, since Zach pretty much just goes where you tell him to go."

"Yes, that is correct." Relieved to be let off the hook, Zach took his chance and scurried out of harm's way.

"Dude, I paid the whole bill! You drank free all night! So what if we did a little cash and dash – it happens all the time."

"Oh, Yeah? Well, I can count on _one finger_ the amount of times it's happened to me." He paced, his irritation sitting on him like an itchy sweater.

Angela huffed, rolling her eyes. "All right, look, Booth, this is ridiculous. What's the big deal?"

Swiftly he walked up to her, giving her a look of utter displeasure. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Oh, stop aiming your shoulders at me, Gigantor – I'm not afraid of you."

"A word, please, Angela. In private." Leaving her no choice, he spun on his heel and stalked off the platform, heading toward her office.

Hodgins came up behind Angela, laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. "Want me to come?"

"Nah, it's just Booth. He's angry, and needs to vent. I can listen to that all by myself. Thanks for the offer, though." Metaphorically, she pushed up her sleeves. "Lunch, after?"

Planting a kiss on her cheek, he chuckled. "Absolutely. How about Greek? My feta waves are spiking."

"Okay, that was horrible. Take your puns and get away from me, silly man." Quickly, she strode away, ignoring his burst of laughter.

By the time she reached her office, Booth was sitting on her chaise lounge, hands clenched together. Concerned – she'd expected more pacing – she carefully closed and locked her door. "Okay, let 'er rip, big guy."

"I need you to butt out, Angela. It's important."

Her eyes widened. More than his words, his tone and the look on his face spoke volumes. "Something _did_ happen, didn't it? I was right!"

Before she got too carried away, he held up a hand. "Angela. Stop. Please." When he had her full attention, he continued. "Yes. Something happened. I'm asking you to please keep it to yourself, and leave us alone for a while."

"Oh, god, is everything okay? You guys didn't fight, did you?" Her concern was immediate, and genuine.

"No, we didn't fight. That's all I'm going to tell you. We need some time to figure out everything, and just…give us some time. I'm sure once things are a little more settled, Bones'll fill you in herself." Sober, he stared intently at her, determined that she understand that he was serious. "So, please – give us some privacy?

She sighed, wanting to be difficult, wanting details, but knowing he was right. Her intense curiosity would just have to go unsatisfied for now. "Well, okay, I suppose I can do that, seeing as you asked so nicely." Then she unfurled her finger, pointing at him. "But you better not mess this up, or you'll answer to me."

It was impossible to be mad at her; she wanted the best for her friend, and that shone through all her wild machinations. A quicksilver grin flashing onto his face, he leaned over, kissed her cheek. "Yes, ma'am."

As he walked away, she pressed her hand to her face. "Hoo boy. It's a good thing I'm in love with Hodgins."

*****

The diner was the perfect spot for this conversation, he mused. With all the bustle and noise, private conversations were easily had. How many times had he looked into her eyes, and felt like they were the only two in the place? More often than he'd realized, he thought with an inward chuckle, and had to admit was only partly due to the surroundings. They were able to shut everyone out, regardless of where they might be at any given moment. It was something they'd done since the start. But this place - _their_ place - was appropriate. So many events of great importance had happened here, it was only right that this take place here, as well.

"Booth?"

"Huh?" Realizing he'd been drifting for some time, he jerked himself back to the present to see Bones frowning at him. "Sorry, Bones, got lost for a second there. You ready to order?"

"Is everything alright, Booth?"

He realized that she wasn't merely frowning at him – she was carefully watching him. "Of course everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

"I thought perhaps you'd changed your mind over the weekend."

"Changed my – no, Bones, believe me when I say that I have not changed my mind. You didn't change **yours**, did you?" If she had, he'd go out and hurl himself under the next passing car.

Her frown deepened. "No, I haven't changed my mind. Did you think I had?"

"No, not really." He sighed. After they placed their order with the waitress, he turned his attention back to her. "Alright, this is a little awkward. I have just one request, before we go any further."

"What is it?"

"We are best friends, and partners – everything else comes after that. We agree that nothing will change that."

"Yes. That is very important to me."

She had answered forcefully, with no hesitation, and the worst of the knots in his stomach began to loosen. It might be a bit difficult, practically, to adhere to that. Emotions had a way of pulling at you and clouding the issues. But the fact that they both _wanted to_ said a lot. They would be careful with what they had. "Good." Reaching over, he squeezed her hand, stroking his thumb along her palm.

"I must admit, I'm still feeling slightly uncomfortable, Booth. This is quite an unusual discussion to be having in the middle of a workday."

He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, it is kinda weird. But when did we ever do anything normally?" He stared at her, utterly shocked when she burst into laughter. She was not prone to laughing.

"I suppose you're correct. I imagine I should be grateful that we're not discussing this while pursuing a suspect?"

He began to grin as the strangeness of it all struck him. "Yeah, Bones, we tackle the perp and you declare your undying love for me." Quick as a flash, he moved to her side of the table, flipping a chair around and straddling it. He tipped forward, leaning toward her until he was sure he had her attention. "If we had done this at the end of the day, you and I both know we would have ended up in bed."

His sudden nearness made her stop laughing, and her breath caught when his hand dropped to her knee, squeezing lightly. She wasn't about to let him have the advantage, though, and she leaned closer as well, until their noses were nearly rubbing. "What makes you think we'd have made it to the bedroom?" She saw by the sudden widening of his eyes that she'd surprised him. She smiled the guilty-as-sin innocent smile that she'd learned from Angela before taking a long pull from her soda. His eyes dropped to her lips, exactly where she'd wanted them. Without warning, she set down the glass and turned to him, all business. "Shall we discuss arrangements?"

"Arrangements?"

"We need to figure out how this is going to work."

"What do you mean, how it's going to work? Bones, what are you talking about?"

"Well, if we're going to become sexually intimate, we have some decisions to make. For example, location, frequency…"

"Stop. Just…stop." A look of amused astonishment crossed his face. "Do you hear yourself? You're not scheduling a doctor's appointment."

"I see no reason to be coy, Booth." A seductive smile bloomed. "We both want this, so there's no point in prevaricating."

"How about leaving a little bit of it to mystery?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "What mystery? It's just sex, Booth."

"It's not just sex." He chuckled. "I'm not looking for a booty call, Bones. This is a relationship."

"I don't think complicating this with emotions is a good idea. You know how I feel about that."

The waitress arrived just then with their meal, forcing a pause in the conversation. They ate in silence for several minutes, each keeping silent counsel. Eventually, he spoke again. "I know how you said you feel; I don't believe you. We already spend most of our time together – it's not like I'm asking you to move in with me."

"I'm aware of that. I enjoy spending time with you, Booth, but that's not the point. I don't need romance, I don't need that entanglement."

He tilted his head roguishly. "Ah, but you've never had romance with **me **- how can you be sure?"

She couldn't help but chuckle at the persuasive smile on his face, but she held firm, supreme confidence in every word. "I'm telling you, I don't need romance."

Grabbing another large bite of his burger, he thought furiously. She might as well have dared him, and he wasn't about to step away from it. He'd never backed away from a long shot before. Odds were – he stopped, dumbstruck. Odds. The old, familiar burning began in his gut, spreading through his entire body. He told himself it was a horrible idea. He didn't listen to himself. Deliberately, he set down his food and turned to face her. "Wanna bet?"

Confused blue eyes turned to him.

"You heard me. Care to put your money where your mouth is, Bones?" He was riding on the adrenaline now; nerve ends tingling, fingers twitching. "You say you don't need romance. I say you do. Prove it."

"Are you insane?" Arms crossed, she regarded him incredulously.

"Not at all. You think you can have a successful relationship, without emotion. I think that once you're in a romantic relationship with me, the sex alone won't be enough. So, let's make it more interesting."

After several tries, she finally found her voice. "You can't do this, Booth. It's silly."

"Sez you. **I** say, you don't want to take the bet because you know you'll lose. Are you afraid, Bones?"

Irritation lanced through her. "You shouldn't even be gambling; you have a gambling problem. Why are you doing this?"

"This isn't cards. This is nothing like Vegas." He slowly shook his head. "And you're stalling."

She hissed impatiently. "No, I'm not afraid of losing. I'm right, and I know I'm right."

He leaned over again, dark eyes probing blue. "_Then take the bet_."

A sudden thrill ran through her, almost sexual in nature. If this was the pull Booth had felt as a gambler, it was no wonder he'd become addicted. She couldn't look away, couldn't gather her thoughts. Couldn't find reason. Even knowing that it was pride driving her, she was unable to stop, and helplessly rose to the challenge. "Fine. What do I get, when I win?" _This is crazy, it's crazy._

"We can decide on a prize after a winner is determined." He held out his hand. "Shake on it."

Pulling her hand away from his, she narrowed her eyes. "Wait. When is the bet over? There has to be a time limit."

"Stickler. Fine – six months."

"Absolutely not. Two months."

"Four months."

"Three."

He raised an eyebrow, smiled cockily. "You're on."

**Anyone care to lay odds?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay. So, I got a little distracted by the new Bones episode, The Hero in the Hold, and it delayed this chapter just a bit. Sorry, just had to write a fic about it! Hope all of you enjoy this, and thank you for all your wonderful feedback. To those of you who post but haven't registered with FanFiction, please know that I cherish your input and comments just as much as everyone else's - I'm not able to respond to you directly, but know that when I get a review from you, I am a happy camper!**

**THE BET**

"Sweetie, you're not still at work, are you? I thought you were right behind me when I left. That was over an hour ago!" Angela's exasperation carried clearly through the phone.

Brennan switched her phone to speaker and finished changing into her dress. "Yes, I'm still here. You called me on my work phone, so you should realize that. Did you need something?"

"Uh – yeah! I need for my best friend to **not** still be at work at six-thirty on a Friday night, that's what I need. Why are you still there? And don't tell me that you had to get some work done, because if you do, I'm coming down there to get you."

"I did have to finish up something. Booth is meeting me here shortly, though - we're getting dinner." Zipping up the dress, she quickly pinned up her hair. "There, I'm leaving – you should be happy."

"Well – I suppose that's alright, then." Her glee was transmitted clearly into the room. "You know I only pester you because I love you, right?"

She chuckled as she slid on her heels. "I love you too, Angela." A quick tap on her door alerted her to Booth's presence. Ignoring the sudden pleasant dip in her stomach, she flashed him a confident smile. "Booth just arrived."

"Hey, Angela." He sank comfortably onto the couch, warm eyes watching his partner. Their first date was tonight. For the first time, he was having the pleasure of watching her get ready for a date with _him_. It was definitely the best experience of his day. So far.

"Hey, G-Man. Where are you guys going for dinner?"

He chuckled inwardly. She'd promised not to interfere, but he knew she just couldn't help but dig for as much information as possible. "I thought Italian would hit the spot tonight. Got a great place picked out, a place called Coppi's, at Logan's Circle on U Street – we'll let you know how it is. You ready, Bones?"

"Just about." She smiled wickedly, merely shaking her head when he raised his brows at her expression. "Ange – I have a presentation at GWU on Sunday afternoon, the seminar I mentioned to you."

"Yeah, sounded remarkably dull – not you, sweetie, just the subject matter. Some bone thingy?"

"Yes, that's correct – the bone morphology of Osteonecrosis patients. I need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes – I need you to come with me, help me with the slides and displays, and also with the refreshments. The hospital's catering service is unavailable on Sundays."

"Oh, sorry Bren – I've, ah, got something with Jack on Sunday. Why don't you get Zack to help you?" He loves that kind of thing."

Whirling to face the phone, she strode closer, ensuring that Angela could hear her. "No, Zach's not available. I need you." A small, satisfied smile grew as she fastened her earrings, waiting for the next excuse from Angela. After listening for a moment, she cut off the stream of evasions coming through the phone. "Angela?"

"What? I'm sorry, Bren –"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm cashing one in." She ignored the choked-off laughter behind her and focused on the phone. "You still there, Ange?"

"Ooh - that's **evil**, you wouldn't, sweetie, really, you wouldn't –"

"Yes. Yes, I would. Make sure you get enough sleep Saturday night – it's a five-hour seminar." Her slim hand flicked over to the phone, hovering near the buttons. "'Night, Ange." With a deft motion, she tapped the connection closed and turned to face Booth. "I'm ready."

Jaw slack, he rose to his feet, regarding her with surprised fascination. "Wow. She was right."

Turning, she allowed him to help her with her jacket. "About what?"

"You **are** evil. Remind me to never really annoy you."

Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled sweetly at him. Just a shade too sweetly. "Why, Booth, you annoy me on a regular basis." She looked straight ahead as he escorted her out of the lab, ignoring the twitch of his fingers on her waist.

"So why haven't you done anything to me?" He grinned, thinking he knew the answer. Leaning close to her ear, he spoke softly. "It's because you like me. I knew it."

"**Or**, maybe I'm just waiting for the right opportunity to present itself." Without looking at him, she knew his mouth had dropped open again, and grinned craftily. "So, perhaps you should be more careful." Happiness flared in her at his sudden bark of laughter, and she shot a sly look at his twinkling eyes. "You think that's funny?"

"Yeah. Well, no, it's actually kinda scary, but - yeah. Who knew evil could be so sexy?"

Their combined laughter echoed down the empty hallway.

*****

"I've never heard of this restaurant, Booth." Turning her attention back to him, she smiled. "How did you find out about it? Have you been here before?"

"No. I did my research. Northern Italian food, great wine list – sounded pretty good. How's your wine?"

"It's excellent. They do have quiet an impressive selection." Perusing the menu, her eyes scanned the entrees, then, surprised, darted up to his. "This is organic, Booth."

"Yeah." Distracted by the desert cart passing by, he glanced longingly at the coffee gelato. He might just order dessert first. _Mmm, gelato. Man, I'm hungry._

"Did you know that?"

"Well, yeah, of course I did. That's why I decided to come here." He looked back over at her, confused by her questions. "Why?"

"It just doesn't seem like the type of place you would frequent, that's all."

"Food's food, right? Besides, you like organic stuff, so I thought you'd enjoy it here." He watched her, growing more bewildered. "Do you not want to eat here? We can go somewhere else…"

"No, no – this is wonderful. It's just – thank you." At his frown, she carefully elaborated. "It was very thoughtful of you to go out of your way for me."

Surely that wasn't a _shy_ smile on his partner's face. She was a constant surprise to him. When he expected her to be intimidated, she stepped up to the plate and then some. And for something easy, like this, she seemed so unsure of herself. He laced his fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "You're welcome, Bones. Anytime." Sensing her discomfort, he changed the subject. "So, see anything you like on the menu?"

"Yes, I thought I'd try the monkfish medallions. You?"

"I'm not sure yet, but maybe the pasta with provolone and Italian bacon. Or, there's always pizza."

She heaved a sigh. "Booth, I am not sharing a pizza with you. I want something off the regular menu."

"Who said anything about sharing? I'm hungry…" Their eyes met, and suddenly, the first-date awkwardness was gone, and it was just _them _again. Chuckling, he leaned back, enjoying the view. Specifically, his view of _her_. "I skipped lunch today, you know."

"I forgot how much you eat. That's going to catch up to you one day. You can't keep eating like that forever without repercussions." Nibbling at a roll, she shrewdly eyed him up and down. "As you age, your cholesterol and blood pressure will worsen, and complications like diabetes and heart disease can arise, as well as obesity. You wouldn't be nearly as attractive if you gained weight."

"You know, you _women_ are always complaining how you're unfairly judged for your weight - what you just said was completely hypocritical. You wouldn't love me if I was chubby?"

"I doubt it. I see no reason to lie – and don't tell me you don't pick out your sexual conquests based on looks. I've seen the women you date."

"Don't forget to include yourself in that group, now, Bones. I'm dating **you** – you're my new hot woman." Leaning forward again, he speared her with a challenging look. "Don't forget, now…"

Fighting off the lure of his dark eyes, she shook herself inwardly, and smiled seductively at him. "If you start to get fat, I won't want to have sex with you."

"Bones!" he protested, grinning, amused beyond all belief by her. "Say that a little louder, why don't you? Wow, now that's just mean." He brightened as he recalled her earlier words. "Hey, since you said you wouldn't love me if I was chubby, does that mean that you **do** love me now?"

"What? No, Booth! What are you talking about?" At his innocent grin, she growled in mock frustration. "Stop twisting my words. You're being silly."

"Yeah, but you **like** it when I'm silly. Don't you?" Finally, he relented, grabbing her hand again. "I'm sorry, I'm just teasing. Let's order, okay?" At her answering nod, he hailed the waiter, but couldn't resist one last poke before he arrived. "You think I'm attractive, huh?"

Groaning, she rolled her eyes.

*****

"I should bring my coat, Booth. It's a little breezy." Hesitating, her hand on the door handle, she looked at him as he rounded the truck. "Just wait a moment."

"Nah, you won't need it. C'mon, Bones, the night's getting away from us. You won't be cold. Let's go." Rather than unlock the truck again, he took her other hand, tugging until she finally gave in. "It's not as cold as you think. Ready?"

"I still think it's chilly…" Huffing, she reluctantly allowed him to pull her with him, through the parking lot, to the water's edge. They walked in silence for a bit, enjoying the gentle bump-bump-bump of the boats against the docks, and the three-quarter moon. She took the time to think back on dinner, and how much she'd enjoyed it. The food, the wine. The company. Everything had been just right. He'd talked with her, teased and tempted her, laughed with her, and it had all felt _right_. She firmly ordered herself to stop. They were friends - of course they would have a good time at dinner.

"What are you thinking about?"

Taken by surprise, she glanced at him. "Why?"

You've got this dreamy-looking smile on your face." Leaning close, he peered down at her. A flirty smile twitched his lips. "What's going on in there?"

She couldn't tell him what she'd actually been thinking. He would take it all the wrong way. "It's nice here. I haven't been by the water since Sully left."

He hazarded a glance at her, suddenly hesitant. "It doesn't bother you, being down here?"

"No." She frowned. "Why would it?"

He could've kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner, but now that he had, well, he had to make sure she was okay. "I kinda forgot until just now, but…well, what with Sully leaving, and all…"

"Oh. No, it doesn't bother me. It's not the same marina, Booth, and it wouldn't matter if it was."

"Well, I know that, but I also know you were upset that day, and I just don't want to bring it all back. Bad memories and all, you know."

"That's over, Booth. It was over some time ago. It's not a problem." It was clear that he was concerned for her. Touched, she leaned her shoulder against his. "Really. Don't worry about it. It's just a place with nice boats; that's all." Freed by the wind, her hair lifted and swirled about her, and her soft expression was replaced by one decidedly less amiable. "It's also a place with a chilly breeze. Booth, I _told_ you I would need my jacket…I have to go back and get it."

"No, don't worry about it. Here." Quickly, gracefully, he whipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her, carefully arranging her loosened hair outside the collar. "There. Better?"

"You planned this, didn't you?" Surreptitiously, she snuggled into the jacket, his residual body heat warming her more than the fabric itself. The familiar scent of her partner rose up, surrounding her with almost as much warmth as the jacket. "I know you planned it."

"Hey, I'll always take care of you, Bones, you know that." Tucking her securely against him, tucking her hair behind her ear, he smiled innocuously, steering her further down the dock. "Now we don't need to go back just yet. A jacket's a jacket, right?"

"I can take care of myself, Booth. You know that."

"I know – doesn't mean I can't lend a hand now and then, right?"

"Well…I suppose. It's just that…Sully seemed to think I was incapable of doing anything by myself. He was nice, but he was quite uncomfortable with the fact that I was so independent. I could tell it bothered him. If it's going to bother you, too –"

"Look, Bones, who you are – is just who you are. You're more than capable of doing for yourself. I think it's great."

She stared steadily out at the boats, focusing on the lazy bobbing motion. "Do you **really** think that?"

"What? Of course I do. Listen." He stopped, turning her and locking his arms around her waist. "I know exactly who you are. Don't you remember? I said it to you, once, a long time ago." His eyes burned into hers. "And I like who you are. You're just Bones. Just Bones. Nothing wrong with that…"

"I know, but Sully –" She stopped abruptly as his hands closed over the lapels of his jacket, pulling her closer. "Booth…"

"Too much Sully." He gripped tighter, pulling her that last inch closer. "Not enough of this." He settled his mouth warmly upon hers, sliding his arms around her. God, _God_, she felt so perfect against him. _Yeah, this is __**definitely**__ not a bad idea_…

The wind kicked up again, swirling chilly around her ankles, but she only barely registered it. He was wrapped around her, arms and lips and everything wonderful, and it felt so _good_. She wanted to feel good, wanted it badly. It seemed so easy, feeling good with him. Not just for the physical, but because they were already so close. As friends, as partners. Her arms stole around his waist, and she returned his embrace with everything she had. _I want this._

Finally coming up for air, he muttered against her lips. "God. You taste so good, Bones. Better than dessert. Better than anything. We really should…" Deciding that kissing her was far more important than talking, hell, than _breathing_, he latched onto her again, the embrace heating quickly, intensifying until it was nearly unbearable. He dragged his lips from hers, sliding them down to her neck, pressing until she was bent backwards. Her hands were pulling at him; setting off alarms everywhere she touched him. "I really should get you home."

"Yes, let's go home." She slid her hand up his chest, pleased with his sudden intake of breath. "I'm ready to go home now."


	6. Chapter 6

**Once again, I am having computer problems. I spent the last couple of days deciding whether I should continue to attempt to fix my laptop, or simply give in and hurl the entire kit out the window. As you're getting a chapter, my better instincts have prevailed, thank goodness! I definitely can't afford a new laptop. Sigh. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and if you do, you know what to do!**

**THE BET**

"Damn! I didn't know it was supposed to rain!" Booth shook like a dog, flinging off droplets as he followed Brennan into her apartment. The rain had started shortly after they'd returned to the truck, and was getting stronger every minute. "You didn't get too wet, did you?"

"No, hardly at all, thank you. Just my feet. You didn't have to hold your coat over me, though, Booth. Rain doesn't bother me." She carefully toed off her drenched shoes, rotating her ankles in silent relief. "How wet are you?"

"Ah, it's not too bad, really. Mostly my shirt." Draping his soggy coat over the doorknob, he shook his head at the beer she held out to him. "No thanks, Bones. I'm actually a little chilly. Got any coffee?"

"Yes, I bought some of the dark roast Kona we had last month. I'm going to change into something more comfortable. You know where everything is…help yourself."

He watched her for a long moment as she walked away, and then shook his head, grinning, and pulled out the coffee grinder. She'd caught him off guard there, for a minute. When she said she was going to change, an instant, knee-jerk vision of her shimmying across the room in matching lingerie and high heels had popped into his brain. Ha. As if Bones would ever do anything so cliché. She was too much the individual, had way too much aversion to artifice to appear like that. _Although - Bones in lingerie, hell, nothing wrong with **that**_. No. What he'd _really _like to see her in would be…

"Um, That smells good."

He glanced over, paused in the middle of pouring his coffee. _Yeah_. That's how he liked to see her. No pretensions. Hair in an abrupt ponytail, face scrubbed clean, easy, comfortable t-shirt and lounge pants. Big…bulky leopard-print slippers? Choking on the laughter, he watched her scuff noisily toward him.

"What's wrong? Why are you laughing?" Confused, she came to him and, regarding him frowningly, took her mug from him.

"Nice slippers, Bones." The idea of Temperance Brennan, so rational and practical, willingly wearing wubby slippers amused him tremendously. It was so _illogical_. "They're you, they really are."

She looked at him slightly defensively and bumped her toe stubbornly against the bottom of the cabinet. "What's wrong with my slippers? They're warm, and my feet were cold."

Composing himself, he crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he admiringly studied her feet. Her very fluffy feet. "Nothing, really. They're very cute. It's just – not like you to wear something _cute_."

"They're actually quite practical. Angela gave them to me last Christmas." Carefully blowing on her coffee, she followed him to the couch. "I find they warm my feet better than a pair of socks."

_And_ _Angela gave them to you. _He knew she would never have worn them, warm or not, if they hadn't been a gift from her best friend. A small grin remained on his face. She showed her true self, all the time, with the small things. She thought she didn't, but he saw them. Thought she was impervious, but he had discovered a few important chinks. "I'm sure you're right – they do look pretty warm." He settled on the couch near her, and they nursed their coffees in companionable silence for a few minutes.

The rain pounded harder and louder on the windows, creating a soothing atmosphere that each, for their own reasons, was reluctant to disturb. Finally, she shifted toward him, tucking her legs under her. "Do you have Parker this weekend?"

"Yeah – I'm picking him up early on Sunday, taking him to his soccer game in Leesburg. You should come, it'd be fun."

"Thank you, but I won't have time. I have the seminar, and I can't take a chance on being late."

Finishing his coffee, he cocked an ear, listening to the rain sheeting down. "Man, I hope this rain stops by then. He'll be so disappointed if the game is canceled."

She smiled into her mug. "**He'll** be disappointed?"

"Well, you know, he practices all the time, and he's getting really good." He noticed the look in her eye and sighed wearily. "I know how you feel about the whole sports thing, Bones, but you know, he loves it and –"

"I think it's great."

"Wait." He gaped at her. "What?"

"While I dislike the importance society places on professional sports, and detest the pedestal talented players are placed upon, I believe that informal sporting events are a good way to introduce the concept of physical fitness to young children. The frivolous nature of the activities is particularly suited to the attention span and cognitive development of children. Anthropologically, sports are also an excellent means of fostering the parent-child relationship. Parker is fortunate to have a father who not only encourages the physical activity, but actively participates in the traditional proceedings."

Stunned by the length and direction of her speech, he studied her closely. "You never said that before." And he hadn't realized, really, how much it had stung, what she **had** said before about sports, until just now.

"Well…" Sighing, she tried to explain. "When we were investigating the murder of R. J. Manning, you weren't being objective…I just didn't…"

"That's okay, Bones, I get it." He grinned, a bit sheepishly. "I know I was a little gung-ho about the whole thing. But it really isn't **all **bad."

"I know. It's good that Parker is being encouraged to be physically fit." Another, darker smile flitted across her lips, and she quietly set her mug on the coffee table. In one single, lithe, movement, she sprang atop him, straddling his lap. "Especially since his father is so extraordinarily fit."

He opened his mouth to speak but found her lips firmly fastened to his before he could utter a word. His hands streaked up of their own volition and gripped her hips, squeezing and stroking her lovely roundness. "Bones," he managed hoarsely, when her teeth scraped and nipped insistently at his throat, "Bones, whoa, slow down."

"Why?" Firmly gripping his hair with her hands and his hips with her knees, she looked down at him, blue eyes lasering into brown. "We both want this, and I don't want to wait anymore. For that matter," she hissed, grinding wantonly against his hardness and prying a curse from him, "it seems you don't want to wait anymore, either." She dropped her open mouth to his again, sucking and nibbling and nipping until he groaned in desperation. Her internal furnace was stoked, the heat spiraling upward from her center to the ends of her fingers, the tips of her toes. At the feel of his arms tightening around her, pulling her tightly to him, she groaned in satisfaction. The friction was nearly overwhelming, and she wanted more. "The bedroom. Hurry." She leaned back and grabbed his collar, pulling urgently. "I want you."

"Just hold on a second - please. Let's take this slow." When she would have reached for him again, he grabbed her hands, holding them to his chest. "We just had our first date tonight, Bones. I don't want to rush into anything."

She blinked, staring mutely at him. When her anger began to rise, she let it loose. "Alright, what the hell is this, Booth? This is the second time you've stopped me. What's going on? And don't try to tell me you don't want this, because you and I **both** know better."

Behind her ire was hurt; knowing her, he was sure of it. It was the last thing he wanted. He needed to be honest with her. "Look - I just – I want this date, this first date between us, to be perfect. And it has been. I want you, God, do I want you. I'm not denying that. I just think if we do this, now…" Here he hesitated, reluctant to complete the sentence. "I just want us to get to know each other, first."

"Get to know each other?" Her face registered complete incredulity, quickly overtaken by confusion. "Is this a joke? We've been partners for over two years, friends for nearly that long. How much more do you need to know?"

"I'd like for us to at least have one date before we jump each other. I'm trying to be a gentleman, Bones. Let me be a gentleman." He was having a lot of trouble, right at the moment, remembering the whole gentleman part. She was still in his lap; her anger and frustration was not a deterrent in any way. Not in the least. If anything, it only made him want her more. Somehow, she must have sensed his indecision, because she smiled, leaned in again, and dropped her hand against his jeans, stroking him casually. Dimly, he felt his blood rush to vacate his upper body. Work or play, her hands were always absolutely fucking brilliant – she was killing him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Booth. That's just an antiquated notion, and completely unnecessary at this point. In fact, it's you who should be worried; I can assure you, however, that I'll respect you in the morning. Now," she whispered indulgently, lips brushing against his once more, "are you going to play nice, or do I have to get rough?"

At those words, at the thought of her actually using force, what little willpower he had got up and hastily left the room. He crushed her to him again, hands dancing, stroking, lips and tongue caressing and tasting. Her nimble fingers had his pants open and him in hand before he knew what was happening, and he moaned brokenly at the nearly overwhelming sensation. "Oh, fuck, Bones…" He jerked, hips involuntarily surging, head falling backward at the feel of her soft touch against him. Unable to help himself, he pushed into her hand, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.

"Do you like that, Booth?" Working her hand deeper, she gripped him more firmly, amazed at how little room there actually was within the confines of his trousers. The throbbing inside her increased, the beat becoming louder, deeper, and she squirmed against him, attempting to give herself some small measure of relief. "Do you want more? All you have to do is _ask_." She began to rotate her palm against him, viciously thrilled when he bucked under her. "Ask."

He couldn't fight her anymore; didn't want to. He wanted _this_, wanted her so intensely he was in actual physical pain. "Yes," he breathed, his hot breath ghosting over her, "I want this. Don't stop." _Don't stop don't stop don't stop, _his gut and his mouth and his hands chanted, overriding his brain. His hands streaked under her shirt, stroking her back, dipping under her waistband to caress her softness. She was vibrating against his leg, trembling enough that it drove him near insane. Then she vibrated again, and he paused. Vibrated a third time. _Fuck fuck fuck!_ "Ah, Bones, Bones, stop…"

Incensed, she reared away from him, ready for blood. She'd fucking kill him if he tried to stop again. Absolutely kill him. "What? What **now**?"

Chest heaving, his eyes met hers piteously. "It's my phone. Fucking A – I have a fucking phone call."

"You've got to be kidding." Dismayed, she glanced down as his pocket buzzed yet again. "No. This is just **not** possible." When he only stared silently at her, she sighed, relenting. "Answer it." She knew he had to; if her phone had rung, _she'd_ have answered. One of the not-so-lovely perks of being indispensable to the FBI.

"Yeah. You, uh, wanna…" He nodded down between them, where her hand was still inside his pants, wrapped around him.

"No." She smiled; a very feline smile. "I don't." He stared at her in shock, and she lifted a brow in amusement. "Better answer the phone, Booth."

Left with no choice, he awkwardly dug for his phone, grunting when his motions caused her grip to pull against him. "Oh, shit…what?" he barked into the phone, struggling to concentrate on what was being said. "Goddamnit, where? No, no, don't bother – I'll tell her myself. I'll call you when we're on our way." Flipping his phone shut, he looked at her in disbelief. "Shit. We have a call." He could see his disappointment was reflected in her face as she sagged slightly against him. "In Tenleytown."

Finally defeated, she shook her head and reluctantly pulled her hand free. "I'll go get changed. Give me ten minutes, and pull my kit out for me." Just as he was moving to help her up, she leaned in again, crowding him. "If I didn't know better, I might think you had something to do with this dead body." Her eyes hard and determined, a sharp smile on her lips, she dropped a quick, fiery kiss on his mouth. "I haven't forgotten about our wager. This isn't over, Booth. It's only beginning." Satisfied with his response to her statement, knowing she'd have to be content with that for now, she gracefully stood, walking out of the room with a single, hot glance backward.

Oh, God. He was never going to survive this. What had he done? He shifted restlessly, zipping his pants and trying to catch his breath. By introducing the bet, he'd roused her innate competitive drive, and made things just that much harder for himself. For the first time, he was actively grateful that there was a body to examine. Springing to his feet, he began to pace in an attempt to calm his body, which obviously hadn't gotten the same phone call he and Bones had. He gave a brief thought to jumping out the window, but that would mean he would lose the bet, and that was not an option. Seeley Booth didn't make any bets he wasn't sure he could win. He might be a reformed Vegas gambler, but he still gambled every day – at work, with his family. He gambled with suspects, playing cat and mouse until they made a mistake, or when he chased after them down dark alleys and through wooded areas. He gambled every time he kept Parker, balancing work and home, trying to be the perfect Dad when he knew without a doubt that he was far from perfect. Now, though, for the first time in a long time, he'd voluntarily taken a bet that he simply couldn't afford to lose. He just had to pray that luck was on his side.

**Comments? Thoughts? Questions? I'm always glad to hear from you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay - between not being able to log on for three days, and my job driving me nuts, it took me longer to update. I appreciate your patience - I hope I have adequately thanked you!**

**THE BET**

"This is the worst call _ever_." Staring gloomily out the window, Booth shivered and tried to ignore the water pooling in his shoes. "Remind me again why we do this?"

"To catch the bad guys." Her voice drifted forward from the back seat as she fought with her soaked jumpsuit. "We do it to catch the bad guys." She stopped for a moment, just long enough to grab his rucksack and toss it to the front seat. "You should change, too – you're just as wet as I am." A chill swept over her as she finally freed an arm. "Is the heat working yet?"

"It's _on_," he replied in a defeatist, singsong voice, "and it's _warm_, but it doesn't seem to be helping at all." He cranked it up one more notch to maximum, abruptly deciding he didn't like the truck's cavernous interior. Glancing hatefully at the bag on the front seat, he reluctantly relented, knowing he'd probably wind up catching some crazy cold if he didn't get into dry clothes. Yep, definitely the worst call ever.

The rain hadn't let up, and had even worsened by the time they reached the crime scene. FBI techs were scurrying madly about, trying to salvage what evidence they could before it washed away, but the ancillary agents had hightailed it the minute he and Bones had arrived, leaving him to secure the entire scene _and_ control the techs. He scowled irritably. He'd be chewing some asses out when he got back to the office – _if_ he ever got back to the office. His frown melted away as a stray thought invaded his head, and he smiled momentarily. He'd had a hard time keeping Bones from killing the techs when she saw their lack of organization under pressure. She'd waded in among them, barking out orders in between the peals of thunder like his old drill sergeant back in El Paso. She'd even resorted to physical means, grabbing and tugging some of the more squirrely techs who were nervous because of the lightning. He had to admit, the storm was pretty bad – even he hadn't wanted to be out in it. But Bones hadn't flinched, standing straight and tall, almost as if daring the lightning to hit her.

Of course, it hadn't, and now they were finally done, the last of the tech rats having deserted the proverbial sinking ship long ago. They were wet through, though, and knew they'd have to change before heading back to the lab, or risk freezing solid. Rather than head all the way south through the city to one of their places to change, they'd opted to change at the scene, as they had many times before. Much quicker, and more practical. _If_ you weren't a 190 pound man trying to change out of drenched clothes in the driver's seat. Hissing as his elbow once again banged the door, he finally managed to pry off his jacket and shirt, tossing them disgustedly on the passenger-side floor. "I don't get paid enough for this." As the thunder cracked sharply, he yanked on his spare t-shirt, thinking testily that it wasn't much warmer than what he'd had on before. "Hell, **you** don't get paid enough for this."

"We would've been done in half the time if the lab technicians hadn't been so unprofessional. Someone should speak with the FBI about their hiring process. Do any of them even have degrees?"

"Well, yeah, Bones, of course they do. But if you haven't noticed, the weather's just a little rotten right now – not everyone is thrilled to be dodging lightning bolts while they work."

"That's completely absurd. The chances of being struck by lightning are infinitesimal. It's illogical and most definitely not productive to cower at every flicker." She dragged futilely at her hair, attempting a haphazard ponytail. The interior of the truck had warmed slightly, and she began to peel off her blouse, still shivering a bit in reaction.

Pausing in mid-contortion, he threw a frown in her general direction. "Hey! I was one of the _irrational, illogical_ ones ducking out there! I happen to think it's foolish to assume you _won't _be hit." The laces on his shoes had swollen to twice their normal size, and were resisting all efforts to be loosened. "This is ridiculous. You got some scissors back there?"

Wordlessly she handed him her trauma shears, and studied him curiously as he bent to the task. As she watched him, a unusual expression grew on her face. Her eyes moved from his head to the wet shirt in her hand, and back again. Watching him closely, waiting until he'd managed to free one leg from his soaked slacks, she carefully lobbed the wadded-up material over the passenger seat, where it landed with a _thwak_ on the floor, on top of his discarded jacket. She smiled slyly at his sudden immobility. "Are you done with the scissors, Booth?"

"What? Oh yeah, yeah, I'm done with them. Here." He reached an arm back, returning them without daring to look at her. He'd forgotten, in the frustration of the case, just what changing in the truck would mean. Great. Now he wouldn't be able to get it out of his head. _Focus, idiot._ _You have a death to investigate._ He began to work in earnest to free his other leg. The sooner he had them off, the sooner he could get dressed, and then he'd be okay. He wouldn't be thinking about the…In stunned silence, he watched her lacy bra settle gently on the ever-growing heap of clothes to his right. _Jesus. Jesus Christ_. As prayers went, it was completely sincere, and remarkably fervent. This was bad. Really bad. She was freezing, wet, trying to warm up and dry off, and he was already inside her in his mind. He had to stop, remember that he wanted more than a quick tussle with her. But damn, she was making it hard. Goddamn. _Very_ hard.

He was waiting for it without realizing he was waiting for it, so when her pants sailed onto the pile, he didn't miss a second of their flight. He began to sweat, and started desperately reeling off sniper calculations in his head. He'd just managed to get his body under control right before they arrived on scene, and now it was all going to hell in a hand-basket. _Ah, shit._ Maybe he'd just pretend not to have noticed what was going on. Really, the fact that she was naked should have no effect on him. They were on the job, investigating a murder. Yeah, he'd play it that way. "You, ah, ready to go, Bones?

"Ready? Yes, I would have to say that I am definitely ready." It was still dark, and this particular scene was isolated. Add in the rain, and they couldn't get a more private place if they tried. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, and she didn't intend to do any such thing.

_Oh thank God._ "Okay, great, I'll be ready in a minute. Now, we need to stop at my office before we hit the lab –" He choked on the sentence as her narrow, purposeful hands slid along his shoulders, pulling him sideways toward the gap in the center console. "Bones, what's – what the hell –" Her hands slid lower, one nipping under his shirt to rest on his belly, and the other – He moaned a vicious curse as her other hand streaked down to his lap, gripping his already hard length and caressing him firmly.

"You're **almost** ready, Booth? I'm afraid I have to disagree – I think it's evident that you're ready **now**." Determined, and more aroused than she'd have thought possible at the sight of him helpless before her, she renewed her efforts, busily torquing him into delirium.

"Holy fuck, Bones!" he gasped, trying to sit up straighter but failing miserably. He leaned backward, protesting even as he angled toward her. "I thought – we were going to – _oh God_ – take our time!"

"**You** thought we were going to take our time. There's more than one speed, Agent Booth." Giving in to temptation, she inhaled along his jaw, reveling in the aroma. "Mmm, you're right _there_, I can taste you, right on the tip of my tongue." She dragged her tongue up the muscular length of his neck and was rewarded by his gasps and groans.

"Ah, Christ – Bones, shit – wait –"

"Booth? You can protest all you want, but your body," she finished, rubbing her thumb tortuously over him and smiling as he arched thoughtlessly into her hands, "is telling me something altogether different. I think perhaps you should shut up now." Her other hand slid higher under his shirt, flicking and twisting his nipples until he hissed his pleasure to her. "That's more like it."

He gritted his teeth, fighting to get the words out when all he could manage was breathless curses. "You better be sure you want to do this, or stop now."

"Of course I'm sure – why in the world should I stop?"

Panting, he craned his neck sideways, his hot eyes meeting her knowing stare. "Because you're about to get what you want."

"Well, then." She tightened her grip on him, stroking him firmly up and down, over and over, her voice purring hypnotically. "I must be doing something right."

"You may get more than you expect. More than you can handle."

"I don't know. It seems like I'm 'handling' it just fine. What do you think, Booth?" Heeding the powerful demands of her own body, she sank her teeth into his neck, holding tight even as he surged up violently. "Am I handling it just fine? Or would you prefer that I handle it differently?"

With a wordless snarl, he turned and launched himself into the backseat, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into the back of the truck. Her triumphant laugh unleashed the beast in him, and he pushed her down, pinning her wrists and hovering over her, his finely tuned senses noting and reveling in the slight widening of her eyes. "How about I handle things for a while?" His eyes shot down her body, taking in his fill of her pale skin and luscious curves. She was flexing her hands and writhing temptingly, but he paid no attention, taking his time until he'd studied her thoroughly. He lifted a brow as he glanced up at her, the fire in his eyes belying his casual tone. "Now now, Bones, be patient. I've waited a long time for this, and I plan on looking." Leaning close, he nuzzled her, his lips brushing over a soft nipple. "Touching." His tongue flicked out, drawing the tip of her breast into his mouth and winning a strangled gasp from her. "Tasting." He chuckled against her damp, heaving body. "Now you get it, don't you?." Still holding her immobile, he moved down her body, kissing and sucking and nibbling her tender flesh, lingering on her quivering stomach, her jerking hips.

"Hurry. Please, hurry, Booth, I need…" She arched back, groaning, as he slid his tongue along the inside of her thigh, tracing lazy circles upward. "Oh god, yes, oh…"

"What, Bones? What was it you said to me last night?" His hot breath searing her skin, he looked up at her, pleased with her desperate state. "Oh, yeah." He rubbed his lips against her. "All you have to do is _ask_." He cocked his head, looking intently at her. "Come on, Bones. What do you want?"

A flare of lust and anger speared through her, and she narrowed her eyes, her hands clenched into fists as she focused her frustration on him. "Bite me."

"Bones! So rude. Well, since you asked so nicely…" The corner of his mouth lifted in a devilish grin as shock flashed across her face. Before she could utter a word, he nipped firmly at her, soaking up her throaty scream. He spun her into a frenzy with his mouth, swirling his tongue, nibbling persistently, only releasing her hands when she was bucking crazily underneath him.

Her hands flew up, banging against the wall of the truck, then shot to his shoulders, her nails digging into him until she finally found purchase and violently ripped at his shirt. She dragged at it until he relented, freeing himself from the fabric with a quick twist of his shoulders. Free at last to touch, she deliberately, wantonly clawed at him until a fierce growl rumbled forth. "I swear, Booth, if you don't get up here now, I will kick your ass."

Knowing precisely the reaction he would elicit, he laughed indulgently at her. "Feeling a bit violent, are we?" He saw her lips firm, waited for the scowl to twist her features, then acted. Surging forward, he was on top of her and fully sheathed in her before the argument left her mouth. "Ah, shit yes, you're right, that's much better."

She was whimpering in absolute pleasure at the blissful sensation of them joined, _finally_ together. His full weight was on her, his full length in her, and she welcomed it, embraced it as she embraced him, as she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around his body.

Neither moved; neither wanted this moment, this long-awaited moment to pass. After a time, his brown eyes sparked, and he began to shift. But she slowed him, holding him close so he was barely stirring. "I want to take my time, I want this to last…oh, I love the feel of you inside me."

His face and body tightened, and he couldn't prevent his hips from jumping forward. "That's not the kind of thing you should be saying, if you want to stretch this out."

She grinned evilly, an almost maniacal gleam in her eyes. "Funny thing, _you_ talking about _me_ stretching this out." Flexing her hips, she managed to take him in even more completely, her eyes never leaving his. "You're doing a pretty good job all by yourself."

He didn't scream out loud, but the sound echoed in his head as the last of his control evaporated. "Okay, that's it. You better fucking hold on." Without waiting for an answer he began to move, thrusting furiously into her, groaning at the absolutely unreal feelings bombarding him. She was tight and wet and hot, her skin and hair and lips and arms and legs all there for _him_. Only for him. Then she touched him, her hand snaking down between them. He jerked backward in reaction, forgetting where he was, and cracked his head on the roof of the truck. "Fucking Christ, Goddamn it, that fucking hurt!" His eyes were screwed shut against the pain, and he heard her laughing, actually _laughing_ at him. "Shit…"

Another sexy laugh burst from her lips as she smirked at him. "You're just too big for the back of this vehicle." A sly grin crossed her face, and her hands slid to his waist. "Actually, you're just _big_, period." Taking advantage of his distraction, she flipped him, squirming on top and swiftly taking him in again. Her satisfied purr echoed musically around them. "Let's see if this is a better fit." Slapping her palms against the roof, she pressed hard, thrilling at his grunt as she sank even further onto him. She took a moment, looking hungrily at him, and then began to rock her hips, moving ever faster against him.

He looked up at her, arms raised high, lip caught between her teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering, and felt his heart drop in his chest. She was so goddamn beautiful – he'd never seen anything as wonderful as her above him. Roughly gripping her hips, he thrust upward until she moaned in delight. Then did it again just because he could. And once again.

She was rocketing back and forth now, fast and hard and everything that took his breath away. Her hands slid from the roof to the foggy window as she leaned forward over him, and he took advantage of her new position, catching one soft, swaying breast in his mouth. He already knew how soft they were. They'd been pressed against him before, the few times they'd hugged each other. He never thought of it at the time, but later, when he was lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling – then he remembered, and imagined with a vengeance. No more imagining, he thought, running his tongue over her. He'd never be able to do without this, without her, ever again. His eyes flicked up to her again, holding, holding, freezing the moment.

She'd seen him looking up at her like this so many times in her dreams, and always jolted awake aching for him. She was jolting now, but this was no dream, and this ache was so much better than anything her sleeping mind could ever create. Even as his body plunged and twisted under her, deep inside her, his eyes were nearly motionless, his concentration absolute. He was _with_ her, more than anyone else had ever been. And he watched her like no one else ever had. Every meaningful stare, every merry, twinkling glance, every disapproving look, they had all led to this. His dark, almost frighteningly focused stare drove her to the edge, and her body began to tighten impossibly around him. "Ohgod, oh, yes…"

He could feel it coming; he knew he was close, knew he couldn't hold out any longer. He could tell she was nearing the end, as well. He wanted her lips on his, wanted it badly. "Come here." Curling his fingers around her neck, he pulled her down to him and hammered up into her. Their lips and limbs locked together just as they both erupted, his body stiffening and jerking upward one last, brutal time, her scream as she seized matching his answering shout. Feeling her shudder uncontrollably against him, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her fast to him, dropping a gentle kiss against her temple before closing his eyes and dropping his head to the carpet.

*****

She was shivering. He could feel it. They'd been lying here for some time, neither able to move, and even though the truck was running, buck naked on a cold, rainy night was not an easy way to keep warm. Leaving one arm snugged around her, he reached to the side, garnering her attention as he fished around blindly in the darkness. A rustle, the clatter of items banging together, and finally he had it. The shiny mylar emergency blanket might not be the most romantic bedding, but what it lacked in style it more than made up for in warmth. "Here we go." Wrapping her securely in the silver cover, he gave her rear a loving pat. "That better?"

"Mmm, yes." She smiled, amused. "I thought for a minute you were trying to find your bulletproof vest." Lazily, she stretched and arched against him, enjoying the solid feel of him against her.

Chuckling, he tucked her closer, nuzzling her hair. "I might need one, with you." Suddenly, his mood shifted, and he found himself sobering. "Am I gonna need that vest, Temperance?"

She shifted, propping her elbows on his chest, and regarded him seriously. "Booth, you knew before we were ever involved how I felt. I'm not interested in a long-term relationship. I do enjoy spending time with you, but –" His hand cupped her cheek, and she leaned into it, needing the contact. She needed things to be right between them.

"Listen, it's okay. Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I brought it up right now." The way she'd arched into his caress gave him hope. She wasn't indifferent – their walk at the marina had proven that. He could be patient – he had more than two and a half months to convince her. He _had_ to convince her. Content for the moment, he settled back, pressing her down until she dropped her head onto his chest. "Besides, there's something more important we need to talk about, anyway."

Instantly tense, she hesitated, then spoke. "And what's that?"

"We need to find a better place for this. The Tahoe is nowhere _near_ as comfortable as I'd imagined – and now I have carpet burns in some very unusual places."

Laughing, she relaxed into him, settling comfortably against his side. In peaceful silence they watched the sheets of water sluice down the windows, cutting them off from the outside world. She sighed and closed her eyes, lulled by the feel of his hand stroking her shoulder. Just for a little while. She'd rest for just a few minutes.

"Bones?" He raised his head to look at her, and grinned when he realized she was fast asleep. Echoing her earlier sigh, he allowed himself to clutch her just a little more tightly. Allowed himself to need her just a little bit more. The rain pounded down, lightning flared, and he realized he didn't care at all. _Yep – best call ever._

**Whew! I guess rainy days aren't really all that bad, after all... Hope you enjoyed it!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh man! I seriously apologize for not updating sooner. Work has been absolutely crazy, and my boss even gave me homework - I had no time whatsoever to write! It drove me nuts. I usually try to update more often, and will try to update sooner, next time. Thanks for being so patient, and not burning me in effigy...  
**

**THE BET**

Forced to park in the structure _yet again_ by the grouchy parking guard, Booth strode testily to the elevator bank. The freakin' FBI _ran_ the security in this place – you'd think the FBI Liaison to the Jeffersonian could park outside the main entrance for _five_ minutes, but no…He rapped his knuckles impatiently on the elevator doors, but they remained stubbornly shut. Rather than wait – the squints had been known to hold the elevator doors open for an hour while they had a physics discussion – he made for the stairs. As he jogged up the first flight, he let his mind wander, thinking back on the last month.

One month. One month of their three-month term was over. Although he'd had some success, he wished he was further along in his goal of getting Bones to crave romance – his romance, specifically. She was quite stubborn, and very determined. He'd managed to sweet-talk her into several dates, and was encouraged by her response to him. With a great deal of fondness he remembered one particularly sweet evening spent walking among the cherry blossoms under an almost-full moon. She'd seemed so soft and affectionate that night – almost a different person. He realized that the woman he'd seen that night had only been a portion of the real Temperance Brennan. He'd met several fragments in the years that he'd known her, and enjoyed them all. But he had a feeling there was more to be discovered. And he planned to do the discovering - if he could get past the Beltway-sized barrier she was throwing up at every bend.

They were hot when they were with each other – so hot his blood was heating right now, at the mere memory of them together. One whiff of her perfume and he instantly remembered her other, more primal, seductive, scent. If he happened to hear her talking, like a flash he would recall how her voice shook when she begged him. One glance at her, at work or anywhere else, for that matter, and he was compelled to seek out the sight of her soft pale skin sprawled out beneath him, tightly wrapped around him, hovering over him on the bed. He had to work overtime to be around her and keep control of himself. The sex was good – hell, why be modest? The sex was mind-blowing. But he wanted more than that. The attraction went way beyond the physical. And that was where the barrier came into play.

She had yet to spend the entire night with him. She always opted to go to his apartment on the evenings when they were together. Unfortunately, he'd been a jerk enough times in his life to recognize the logic behind that choice. She was too polite to ask him to leave _her_ apartment – this way, she could leave whenever she felt the need. Which, apparently, was after every time they were together. That was going to end. It was time to step up his game, because he wasn't about to lose this bet. Yes, it was time Temperance Brennan spent the entire night in his arms. Now, he just had to find the perfect time to execute his plan. Rounding the last set of stairs, he broke into a confident whistle and pushed open the stairwell door.

*****

"Hey, Bren?" Angela stuck her head in the door to Brennan's office, her dark hair swinging gracefully. "Hodgins, Zack and I are toying with the idea of going down to the diner for some lunch – we are **seriously** starving. Wanna come with?"

"No, thank you, Ange. I have to finish up the paperwork from my last identification." Brennan flicked a short glance upward before refocusing on the triplicate forms spread out before her in a large puddle on her desk. "I would prefer to avoid any type of backlog, since we seem to be getting busy. And Booth will be here soon – we have to go out to Fairfax for the Strickland case."

Abandoning her spot in the doorway, Angela strolled in, scanning the myriad of papers spread out on every surface. "Is this for the 'Not a Real Mummy' body?"

"Yes." Biting back a sigh, she barely resisted the urge to massage her temples. But only barely. "It's amazing to me that the local medical examiner wasn't able to see that this body was clearly newly deceased. And fully embalmed."

"Yeah, well, I don't think he was too keen on taking off the skeevy bandages to look closer. Besides, he's from the Tidewater district, and you know how they are down there." Wandering over to the coffee table, she leaned over a large vase of flowers, inhaling deeply. "These are just so great."

"So you said before," Brennan replied crisply without glancing over at Angela.

Surprised, Angela glanced over her shoulder at her. "What's wrong?" Wandering back over to the desk, she plopped down in a chair and fixed a long, penetrating, and very astute stare in Brennan's direction. "Did you and Booth have a fight?"

"What?" Having finally been distracted from the work at hand, Brennan looked up, confusion on her face. "No. Why would you ask that?"

"Well, you don't seem very happy that he sent you that beautiful bouquet, and I can't think why, unless he sent them because you fought." Her brow winged upward. "Not a _bickering_ fight, mind you, but a _real _fight."

Now she did sigh. This was a familiar topic of discussion for Angela. Although the questions were different each and every time, the end goal was always the same. "No, Ange, Booth and I didn't have a fight." Deliberately, she re-focused on her report, hoping that Angela would get the hint.

Angela, however, was having none of it. Knowing perfectly well that Brennan was hiding behind her work, and that she had a habit of answering one question to avoid answering another one, she merely settled into the chair. "Come on, now – you know that doesn't work with me. Tell Auntie Angela what's wrong. You know I won't leave until you do," she added, forestalling whatever pithy argument her friend was about to offer.

Brennan hissed in annoyance. "Now you sound like Booth."

"Thank you, Sweetie." Angela's smile was large and quite satisfied.

"That **wasn't** a compliment. The two of you can be very pushy – it's quite annoying." Aiming a fulminating glare at Angela, she finally tossed down her pen and leaned back in her chair, huffing noisily. "I don't know what to do about the flowers."

Now Angela frowned. "I don't get it. What do you mean, you don't know what to do about them?"

"Just that. I don't know what Booth wants. He must want something, or he wouldn't have sent them. If we'd had a fight, I could comprehend his logic – the flowers would represent a peace offering. But we haven't had a fight, and now I'm confused." She rubbed her eyes in frustration. "Men always send flowers with a specific objective in mind. I need to understand things, and I don't understand this."

"Let me say one thing, Bren. Well, two things. Okay, maybe three. Haven't you ever done something for someone for no reason? Done it 'just because'?" She caught sight of Brennan's expression. "Never mind, I can see that you haven't. At least, you _think_ you haven't. Well, a lot of people do that type of thing, and Booth definitely strikes me as that kind of guy. Didn't he give you those cute figurine thingies?"

"Yes, he did. But we were only partners then, and he had specific reasons for giving them to me. We're sleeping together now, which makes the entire situation different. He must have had a reason for this."

"Okay, you know what? You need to stop this. You're over-thinking the situation, when what you should be doing, and what I _caught_ you doing a few times today, is burying your face in those blooms and smiling." Always quick on the uptake, she spotted the flash of guilt on Brennan's face. "Don't even bother trying to deny it, because I saw you myself, when you thought no one was looking."

She felt like a complete fool. She'd thought she'd been alone when she'd indulged herself with several long lungfuls of the fragrant blossoms. "What – I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know what you think you saw, but I'm sure you're mistaken."

Angela rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Bren – it's _me_. Talk to me, please. I thought we were best friends…"

As she stared into Angela's anxious face, she remembered all the times Angela had been there for her. She knew better. She could talk to Angela. She _was_ her best friend – actually, the only best friend she'd ever had. Until she met Booth. The trickle of guilt grew into a stream. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so difficult. It's just…I _do _like the flowers. They're quite beautiful. And my problem is that…I don't know what to do about them."

"God, sweetie, if this is how much you worry about a bunch of flowers, I'd hate to see what happens if things get really serious between the two of you. Look – think about it this way. It's like you were just admitted entry into a very exclusive and desirable club - one to which you didn't even know you wanted to belong. Why question it? Just enjoy the – _ahem_ - membership perks." Her sharp ears picked up a faint whistling, and she knew she only had a moment, at best. Booth always moved quickly when he was headed toward Brennan. "And my last piece of advice? If the flowers come up in conversation, just thank him. That's it. Leave it right there."

"Leave what right where?" Booth swept into the room, his eyes quickly scanning the entire area, noticing both Bones' discomfort and the presence of the flowers. His already-present grin widened just a bit more.

She smoothly shifted the conversation. "The report Brennan's completing. She should just leave it there. It can wait until the two of you get back from Fairfax. So," she began, her canny gaze switching from Brennan to Booth and back again, "I think you'll both admit that I have shown great restraint with regard to the two of you and your mattress acrobatics over the past month."

"Angela!" Shocked at her friend's choice of words, Brennan glanced quickly at Booth, but noted with a sense of relief that he was regarding Angela with more humor than horror. "I think it's time for you to go. Weren't you starving?"

"Oh, ravenous – but this is important, so I shall gladly suffer for another few minutes. I think it's high time that you two went out on a date."

"Angela – Bones and I have been on several dates. What are you talking about?" He swung to Brennan. "Have you really not talked to her at all about us?"

"Of course not – why would you ask me that?" Brennan peered at him in annoyance, automatically closing the report in its folder. "It's private – I don't talk about things that are private."

He snorted. "That's never stopped you before. Don't worry Angela, we do, in fact, have date nights." When she merely laughed and shook her head, he frowned. "What?"

"Once you two get started, does anything stop you? I meant a _double date_. You know, two couples, dinner at a fancy restaurant, a classy band, dancing – preferably under the stars, but I'm flexible on the star part – it would be fun!"

Angela's machinations finally galvanized Brennan to action, and she shot up, hastily straightening her desk and scanning the room for her kit and jacket. "No, Angela – no double date. It's not happening."

"Why not?"

She had expected the question, had anticipated answering it, but was completely derailed when she realized that it wasn't Angela who'd asked the question, but Booth. She hadn't expected that from him. "What? You actually _want_ to go on a double date? You told me once that double dates were lame, that they were for people who were hard up for a real date."

"Man, you really do have an excellent memory, don't you? I hope you never testify against me in court." He shrugged carelessly. "I changed my mind. Angela and Hodgins aren't hard up, and you and I _certainly_ aren't hard up, so maybe it'll be fun." Maybe not fun, exactly, but he'd make sure it was romantic. Whatever ideas Angela had, at the moment they merged completely with his, so he'd use her for now. He'd fired a few romantic salvos up to this point – now it was time for a full-on romantic broadside, courtesy of Seeley Booth. And he knew exactly which buttons to press to ensure that it happened. "You don't look convinced. Don't you want to go out with Angela?"

"Well, of course, but based on what you've said to me in the past, I didn't think you'd enjoy it." How had this conversation gotten away from her? Now she felt guilty for not wanting to spend time with her friend. She knew exactly how that felt, to be left out, and hastened to reassure Angela. "It should be fun. We can talk about what night when we get back, but we really have to go now."

More than pleased with the results of her sneakiness – and Booth's sneakiness as well, as she had to give credit where it was due – she took a moment to be generous. "Since you'll be busy most of the afternoon, can I help you with anything here?"

Intent only on escape, Brennan was forced to pause for a moment to think. "No, thanks. Wait - actually, yes, you could." She waved a large stack of papers in the air. "I need copies of all these documents for my file – maybe you could find an intern to do that for me."

Angela nipped them neatly from her hand. "Just let me do it – we're not leaving for another fifteen minutes. Besides, all the interns are at lunch, and unlike you," she said with a wry smile, "**I** actually recognize and can operate a copier."

Brennan looked back at her from the doorway, frowning distractedly. "Why should I learn how to use it? That's what interns are for."

"Yeah, you might want to keep that to yourself in front of the actual interns…oh, you know what, never mind. I'll leave the copies on your desk when I'm done with them." With a flick of her bangle bracelets, she turned and sailed briskly down the hall.

Looking after her for a moment, Brennan shrugged and finally yielded to Booth's impatient hand on her back. They were almost to the truck when she stopped and turned abruptly to him. "Why did you send me flowers?"

Slightly startled by her sudden change of mood, but not surprised by the question, he answered with the simple truth. "Because you like them."

She opened her mouth to retort that she didn't need them; that she didn't need silly romantic gestures. Before she could get the words out, however, Angela's advice played in her head. Looking intently at him, she made a quick decision, one that felt right. "Thank you.'

A simple, beautiful smile lit his face. "You're welcome."


	9. Chapter 9

**See? I promised I would update sooner than I did last time, and I was true to my word. I felt badly about making you wait for so long, and I didn't want that to happen again. For all those who comment anonymously, please know that if I could respond and thank you, I most definitely would. And for those who have added this as a Favorite Story, thank you so much for your support! Every time I see one of those Favorites notifications, I get a lovely warm feeling. Of course, all of you are wonderful, and your feedback is so lovely, really. I do hope you enjoy this!**

**THE BET**

Brennan quickly turbaned one towel around her dripping hair and snatched another, knotting it around herself as she hurried down the hall. _Damnit, Booth._ He was banging on her door, and if she didn't answer it within ten seconds, then he'd…she heard the snick of the locks being disengaged and sighed in annoyance, swiftly crossing the room and yanking the door open. "Booth –" His arms were around her in the next moment, his hungry lips stopping her planned lecture on patience before she'd even started. Instead, a muffled exclamation was all she could manage.

"Mmm, I missed you…and wow, do you smell _good_." Quickly setting down the tray of coffee he'd brought, he walked her backwards in the direction of the couch. Spinning at the last second and falling backwards, he pulled her down onto his lap. He nuzzled her neck like a hungry dog and locked his fingers together behind her as she squirmed against him. _I really missed you._

"How could you possibly miss me? I only left your apartment five hours ago…" Shoving in equal parts at her slipping towel and his clever hands, she softened momentarily as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot where neck met shoulder. Just before she completely forgot where she was, she snapped her focus back to him. "Why are you here? Do you realize it's only six-thirty in the morning?"

"I haven't seen you in five hours, that's why I miss you…if you'd stayed, I wouldn't have to drop by at this ungodly hour so I can get my hands on you. And can I just say that it was very considerate of you to be wet and naked when I got here. Makes my job that much easier." He took a deep, life-sustaining breath, taking her in as well. Better than coffee, he thought, his mind spinning. She smelled and tasted better than coffee. It was amazing. If he could just have this every morning, he might never drink coffee again. His skilled fingers began twitching at the edges of the terrycloth barrier.

The knot in her stomach formed as the knot in her towel loosened. Her heart began to race, and she relaxed against him, settling on his chest. Suddenly, deplorably needy, her hands began to clutch at his shoulders. "So you came here for a booty call?"

He chuckled, beyond amused with her. "Of all the pop-culture terms you don't know, **that's** the one you pick up from me. Figures." Reaching up, he snagged the towel on her head and yanked, toppling it sideways. Her slick, dark hair swung free, the wet curls teasing him with their fragrance. "I'm here to take you somewhere."

Swiping at the damp tendrils in her face, she sat back abruptly, suspicion on her face. "I have work to do this morning, Booth. If we're going to dinner with Angela and Hodgins this evening, I have to write the next chapter of my book. I'm not going anywhere." She began to wriggle again, but was merely pulled back down. "Booth…"

"Well, now, Bones, this is the way I see it. Either you come with me, and we have some fun, or I stay here with you and we have some _fun_. I'll let you decide, how's that?" Dropping a kiss on her nose, he fiddled with the towel again, and finally succeeded in tossing it aside. His thumb casually rubbed her nipple, drawing a gasp from her, and his eyes met hers. "Take your time."

How was he able to do this to her? She stood strong in all situations, could rarely be swayed from what she wanted. But with Booth it was all so different. It had been different, she had to admit, since they'd met. He'd always seemed to possess some type of power over her, had always been able to make her see things from more than just her point of view. She shuddered at the feel of his hands on her, but also at the evidence of just how strongly she responded to him. "Where did you want to take me?"

"Can't tell you. It's a surprise. But you'll definitely have fun, I promise. This is right up your alley. Come with me." Spotting the indecision in her eyes, he pushed just a tad harder. "Please?"

She shifted uneasily in his arms, unwilling to admit she'd already changed her mind. But she had, and knowing him, he most likely knew she had. "Well…I suppose I could write tomorrow instead of today…"

"That's my…great, you won't regret it. Now," he continued as he stood, lifting her to her feet, "go get dressed. We should hit the road before too much longer. I reserved a time, and I don't want to lose it." Placing his hands on her hips, he gave her a gentle push to start her on her way. "C'mon, hop to, Bones."

Pausing in mid-retreat, she turned back to him, not bothering to clutch the towel in front of her. "If you refuse to tell me where we're going and what we're doing, then what do I wear? I'm not good at deciding what to wear for a surprise."

"Sorry. Thick canvas pants, Bones. A t-shirt and your strongest, lightest hiking boots. Make sure the boots are broken-in, though. And you should pull back your hair." He chuckled at the confused look she threw at him, but angled his head and quickly stopped laughing when she turned and walked down the hall away from him. Damned if that wasn't one hell of a fine view. His eyes darted to the clock, and then back to her. Flipping open his celphone, he dialed quickly, speaking softly into the phone. "Hey, Reggie, it's Booth. Can we push our time back by about half an hour? Something's come up and we're gonna be a little late." He smirked at the squawking voice coming out of the phone. "I know, I know, but can you do it? Hey, thanks. I'm sorry I ever called you a jarhead. Ha ha, yeah, you're really funny. I'll see you in about two hours, buddy. Thanks." Disconnecting, he tossed the phone on the couch and headed toward her bedroom, quickly shedding his jacket. "Slight change of plans, Bones."

*****

"I really wish you'd tell me where we're going." Brennan drained the last of her coffee and carefully folded it into the trash bag. Truthfully, she barely needed it. Her entire body was still tingling from when he'd come into her bedroom. She smiled at the memory, but carefully hid it before turning to face him. There was no need for him to know how he affected her. "I do much better when I have time to prepare for something new beforehand." The scenery sped past; trees and new housing developments and streams. They'd been on the road for half an hour, and nothing she'd done or said had persuaded him to reveal their destination. They were traveling south on Interstate Ninety-Five. That was the only thing she knew for sure. "If our positions were reversed, you'd be nagging me mercilessly to tell you where we were going."

"Bones! Enough! I'm not going to tell you, and that's that." Inordinately pleased, he smiled at her after passing a horse trailer trundling along in the center lane. "Wow, you really are nosy, aren't you? I did _not_ know that about you."

"I don't like surprises, and therefore, people know not to surprise me. I feel I should tell you now - if I don't like your surprise, I'm going to be very unhappy." Feeling unaccountably mulish, she crossed her arms and fixed her most intimidating stare on him. Not that she expected it to be at all effective. She'd tried before, but he seemed completely immune to it.

"And as a result, I'll be very unhappy. I get it, Bones. You know, maybe you didn't like them because they weren't the right kind of surprises. C'mon, give it up. Just enjoy the ride, okay? I promise you, I'm not gonna surprise you with something you wouldn't like. Believe me, you'll like this."

Frustrated and needing to keep her hands busy, she twisted around and pulled the Strickland file off the back seat. She paged through it, glancing in surprise at the new notes tacked inside. "You found out more about Lederson?"

"Yeah, got a call early this morning, a lead on his possible whereabouts, as well as another potential victim."

"In D.C.?" Scanning the papers he'd tacked to the cover, she quickly deciphered his scrawling notes. "Warm Springs?"

"Billy's contact said Lederson was known to frequent that area, and I spoke with the sheriff out there – they had an unsolved case that matches the particulars of Strickland's murder. Which means," he said with a smile, "You and I are going on a road trip."

She gaped at him in disbelief. "Booth! I'm not dressed to examine a victim! I don't have my kit, and what's in the truck isn't sufficient. I can't believe you would just drag me to a case with no warning –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He flapped his hand in her general direction to stop her. "Hold on for a minute. We're not going out there _now_. They have to exhume the body, and they need a court order for that. The sheriff's facing resistance from the family, so we won't be going there until Wednesday or Thursday, at the earliest, and more likely the week after. Besides, Warm Springs is within spitting distance of Kentucky – I would have taken Sixty-Six to get there."

"Oh…" Fidgeting, she hazarded a glance at him, relieved to see that he was looking back at her, his lips twitching. "Sorry."

"Geez, way to jump to a conclusion, there, Bones. What the hell? I would never do that to you." Eyebrows lifted, he looked over at her again. "You _do_ know that, right?"

She sighed uncomfortably. "Yes, I know that. It's just that you said road trip, and we're on the road now, and I don't know where we're going, so it seemed like a logical deduction. I _am_ sorry, Booth."

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I suppose it is partly my fault for not telling you where we're going. We're almost there now - soon you'll know everything." When she didn't answer, he knew she was busy feeling nervous. That wouldn't do, at all. He'd talk about the case – that'd get her mind off her nervousness. "Hey, when we _do _go to Warm Springs, you'll have to pack a bag – we'll probably be there for at least two days, maybe three. Can you get the time off of work without a problem?"

"It should be fine. Zach can handle anything that comes in until I get back, and I can always link remotely with the lab if they have any problems."

"Good." Spotting his exit, Booth exited the interstate and headed east on Fuller Road. He could feel her looking at him, and knew she'd caught on to their destination. He smiled inwardly. She might know where they were going, but not what was going to happen when they got there.

She slid on her shades when the change in direction brought bright sunshine beaming through the windshield. "We're going to Quantico?" When he merely nodded without looking at her, she studied him carefully. "Are we helping some friends of yours at the base?"

"Nope."

"Come on, Booth! What's going on?" She just barely resisted grabbing him by the arm. He was doing this on purpose, now. He knew she was desperate to be told what he had planned. Then she had a thought. Perhaps if she was nice, he would tell her. "Please?"

"Oh, don't even start that. That won't work on me." But he wasn't so sure when she leaned closer, trailing her fingers along his leg. "Bones…" He couldn't resist turning his head toward her. The warm, golden light was drenching her, bringing out the red in her hair and darting behind her glasses, making her pale eyes seem even lighter.

"What?" Mischievously, she moved her index finger in ever bigger circles. "I'm just asking a question, that's all. There's nothing wrong with that." She felt his thigh muscle twitch under her fingertips and knew she was getting closer. "Is there?"

Her calm, smoky voice was hypnotizing him, causing chills to run up and down his body, and only the fear of driving the truck off the road kept him focused. "You know what's wrong with it – besides, we're here." Swinging into a parking spot, he killed the engine and grabbed her wrist. "Stop it, before you kill me. I'm going to show you why we're here. Come on."

She followed him across the blacktop to a large, well-maintained outbuilding. Stopping at what looked to be a tightly-secured door, he pressed the small buzzer button, holding it down for several seconds before following up with a series of hammering blows to the door itself. A snort of laughter burst from her lips as she stared disbelievingly at him. "I thought you only did that to _my_ door."

"Nah, Reggie and I go way back. If I don't make a lot of noise, _he'll never wake up and we'll be standing here all day_." He finished the sentence in a near-shout, obviously intending to be overheard.

The intercom spit up a chunk of static, and a cocky voice burst forth, the west Pennsylvania accent clear as day. "That has to be Seeley Booth. No one else I know pounds on a door that way." Another spurt of static ensued, followed by a series of buzzes, snaps and clicks.

Booth seemed to be satisfied with what he heard, and, nodding in satisfaction, swung the door open and motioned her inside. "Reggie! You awake, you lazy bastard?"

"Seeley! How the hell are you?" A burly, uniformed man with a neatly mowed plot of bright red hair and a wolfish grin descended the stairs, briefly shaking Booth's hand before engulfing him in a massive, almost brutal hug.

Booth clapped his hand on the other man's back before shoving abruptly away, grinning widely. "Don't call me Seeley, you fuckin' jarhead…"

Brennan watched them trade insults for a moment, until her innate desire for knowledge overcame her. "What's a jarhead?"

Both men swung around to face her. "A jarhead's a Marine. Reggie was a new Marine when I was in the service. We _elite_ troops called 'em jarheads. Reggie, this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. Bones, Lieutenant Colonel Reginald Albrecht."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Brennan." Restraining himself, Reggie politely shook her hand. "Oh, what the hell…" He tugged her forward and enveloped her in a similarly bone-powdering bear hug. "It's great to finally meet you. All _Seeley_ here does is talk about you anymore."

"Uh…it's nice to meet you too…" She could barely breathe; the man was like a boa constrictor. But he was certainly friendly. Unbidden, her lips curved, and she finally returned the embrace wholeheartedly. "Booth talks about me?"

"Yeah, all the time, can't ever get the guy to shut up –"

"Reggie," Booth warned firmly, "that's enough of that." Firmly extricating her from the redheaded straightjacket, Booth pulled her a safe distance away. "Just ignore him, Bones. Reggie likes to live vicariously through me, since he has no life."

"I do too! Just last week I stole a tank. Drove it right on down to the water, and all."

Both men grinned, and Brennan couldn't help but smile as well. It had been quite a while since she'd seen Booth this happy. "I guess you've known each other for some time."

"Yeah. Reggie and I met during the war and, well, we got along pretty well."

Reggie mimicked the thumping of his heart with his hand. "It was true love."

"Shut up, you moron. Anyway, we spent some time over there together – special ops stuff - and when I left the service, Reggie decided to make the Marine Corps his career. He just transferred here last year, was brought in to run the Road, and we've been trading insults ever since." Knowing better than to relax his guard around his friend, Booth carefully stretched his arms. You never knew when Reggie would decide to gut-punch you, just for the hell of it. "This is Bones' first time here."

"First time?" Reggie frowned in confusion, looking back and forth between the two of them in disbelief. "No way. How'd she pass Academy?"

Booth shook his head quickly. "Nah, Bones isn't FBI. She's a Forensic Anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institute in D.C., and _she's_ the main reason my arrest record is so good."

She moved automatically to protest. "Booth, that's not true, you're _just_ as accomplished –"

He interrupted her easily, shushing her with a wave of his hand. "Don't listen to her. She's brilliant – she can look at a skeleton and tell you everything about who the person was when they were alive."

"Oh, so that's why you keep calling her Bones. You always were one for nicknames – and pounding on doors." Reggie focused all of his attention on her. "Are you as good as he says?"

"Booth's last statement was inaccurate. I can't tell you _everything_ about the victims from their remains. I am very good at my job, however, which is why I was hired by the Institute. Booth said you run the Road? What is that?" She began to speak again, had _intended_ to continue, but Reggie swung angrily back to Booth with a fierce scowl. She was slightly taken aback – the transformation from easygoing friend to intense warrior was just as sudden with him as it had been with Booth, the few times she'd witnessed it. The metamorphosis was actually rather fascinating.

"What the hell, Seeley! You brought her out here as a surprise? Are you insane? You can't send her out there just like that!"

"Jesus Christ, Reggie, stand down!" Booth rolled his eyes helplessly toward the ceiling. "What is this, National Knee-jerk Day?" He held his hands up in mock frustration. "It's nothing she can't handle, believe me. You don't know her background."

"Alright, that's it!" She stepped forward, jabbing a finger sharply into Booth's chest. "Why…are…we…here?"

His most winning smile firmly in place, he surreptitiously rubbed the spot she'd poked. "Welcome to the Yellow Brick Road. Dorothy."

"I don't understand – what do you mean, Yellow Brick Road?" She frowned at them in consternation as they both began to chuckle. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about right now? Because I can assure you, I don't."

"You wouldn't understand - not unless you're a Marine or an FBI agent." Stepping forward, Reggie opened his mouth to explain, but grunted in surprise as Booth's elbow found his gut.

"I'll explain it, Reggie." He smiled at her. "The Yellow Brick Road is the FBI Academy's obstacle course. It's a part of the fitness trials that every new agent has to pass, in order to graduate from the Academy. You either run to the course or back from it, unless you're a glutton for punishment, and then you run both ways. But that's nearly ten miles in all, plus all of the obstacles."

Still frowning, but this time in concentration, she crossed her arms. "What kind of obstacles?"

"Rope climbs, walls, bear traps, trenches, cargo nets – and barbed wire. I come out here to run the course every month or so, just to keep my hand in the game. It's a good indicator of whether or not my workout regimen is good enough, or if I need to kick it up a notch or three. I thought you might be interested in trying it out for yourself." Mirroring her posture, he folded his arms and canted his head to one side, eyes narrowed. "So – what do you think? You game?"

For the longest moment she remained motionless, simply throwing an intense stare at him. Slowly, ever so slowly, her eyes began to gleam, and a hungry, almost ferocious expression spread across her face. "I'm game."

Laughing loudly, Reggie clapped her on the back, almost knocking her down in the process. "She's got a pair, I'll give her that. She better be as good as you say she is – or do I need to have the evac on call?" He stepped back hastily when she rounded quickly on him, but not quite quickly enough.

She had his wrist in a restraining hold in the blink of an eye, twisting it just a little bit too much. She gave it another light tweak, pleased when his eyes widened. "Oh, I'm good enough, Reggie, you can bet your ass on that." Releasing him, she casually walked away and began stretching. "Are we going soon?"

When he was able to breathe again, Booth wiped his streaming eyes and thumped his friend's shoulder. "Maybe you should keep that evac on call, Reggie – for _you_."

"Wow – well, I never met a doctor with _those_ kind of moves. You got yourself a good one here, Seeley." Squatting down before Brennan, Reggie began loosening her laces. "Here. You're gonna want to tuck your pants inside your boots – there's a lot of mud and water out on the course, and this'll help keep you dry, and protect your legs. Make sure you lace these tight – you'll be running, and loose laces cause sprains and strains. You know the deal, Booth," he threw over his shoulder. "At least twenty minutes of stretches, upper _and_ lower body, if you're doing the course first. If you're running first, at least ten minutes of stretching now, and ten more before you start the course. Make sure to stretch your back – we get lower back injuries here the most. You running out or back, Seeley?"

"Bones? What do you want to do?"

Pausing mid stretch, she considered the question carefully. "I believe I'd prefer to run back afterward."

"Okay, back it is, Reggie. Where can we hook up with the transport?"

"The usual place, just across the lot. Truck should be back in ten; they're humping back the ones who couldn't make it. Might have one broken ankle in the lot – didn't lace tight enough, probably. Dumbass." Satisfied with the state of Brennan's laces, Reggie stood again, towering over both of them as they continued to prepare. "Hey, Booth. Got a couple of bogey spots out there. The bear claw is really slippy – had at least three people do a header on it so far today. Too much mud."

Booth stood and began working on his hamstrings. "Yeah? What else?

"The water's a little deep out there. That heavy rain two days ago hasn't drained yet. You both up on your tetanus shots? Lotta ways out there to get scrapes or punctures. Can't let you go out without it." As they nodded their assent, he dropped his businesslike demeanor, and the wolf grin reappeared. He walked over to Brennan and took her hand again. "Good luck, Dr. Brennan. Do me a favor? Kick his ass out there. He gets a little too arrogant for his own good, and needs to be brought down a peg."

"Hey!"

Brennan ignored Booth's outburst and focused directly on Reggie. "Thank you. I know what you mean – I'll do my best."

Booth ignored Reggie's loud guffaw and stepped in between them. "Okay, chuckle time's over. Let's go, Bones – we don't want to miss that truck." Once again facing his friend, he shook his hand, and then lightly slapped his cheek. "Nice to see you again, jarhead. Say hello to Wendy for me."

"Will do. You two have fun out there, and don't get killed, okay?"

The door clapped shut behind them, and they began the trek across the large lot to the loading station. The morning seemed almost too quiet, now that they were no longer in Reggie's presence. "I swear, that freakin' jarhead has the energy of ten men. I keep telling him to come work for the Bureau, but he's a diehard career man. There's no budging him."

She listened to him closely. She'd wondered for some time if, despite Booth's pain at what he'd had to do in the Army, he missed the life and the people. It was clear to her now that he did miss it. She supposed that military and wartime situations fostered close relationships by necessity. But he didn't miss it enough to be unhappy. That much was also plain.

They stretched for several more minutes, alone and with assistance from each other. Just as they were finishing, a distant rumble revealed the approaching transport. She looked, but was unable to see it. In the quiet surroundings, it could still be a mile away. Glancing around, she realized that the entire area was deserted. Heart pounding, she stepped up to Booth and grabbed his hand. "Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"I like my surprise." Looking around one more time, she quickly lifted up onto her toes and dropped a brief, sweet kiss on his lips. Before he could grab her, she turned and walked away with a saucy swing of her hips, tossing a challenging look over her shoulder. "And I _am_ going to kick your ass out there."

A wide, silly smile spread on his face as he watched her begin to stretch again. It was all coming a bit easier for her now. He was so glad. Glad for her. And _God_, he was gone. Yep, totally gone. He perused her for another moment, and then continued stretching. He needed to make sure he was warm when they started. _There's no way I'm letting her kick my ass_. "Hey, Bones."

She glanced over at him while she stretched her back. "Yes?"

He held her eyes for a long moment, his smile sharpening into something quite a bit more determined. "You'll be eating my dust."

**I don't know about you guys, but I know I'd have a heart attack about 100 yards into that course. I might chance it though, if Booth was there to...ahem...revive me...okay, BAD writer! See, this is what happens to me in the middle of the night. If you enjoyed this and want to drop me a line, I'd be thrilled to hear from you.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Yikes! After I promised to update more often, here I am posting after almost two weeks have passed! I am very sorry - but at least I finally got it out here for you. As always, I really hope you enjoy it, and enjoy the rest of your weekend!**

TEN

The truck dropped them off at the head of the course, re-loading with those who'd run out from the base, and those who hadn't made it through, before peeling away and spraying them in a hail of grime. At Brennan's gasp of surprise, Booth smiled indulgently at her. "If that little bit of mud bothers you, maybe you should sit this out. We're about to take a mud bath."

"I'm not sitting anything out," she retorted crisply, "I just think that there's no need for him to drive like a lunatic. That ride out was highly uncomfortable."

"Yeah, well, that's the Marine's equivalent of a limo ride – those amphibious vehicles aren't known for their smooth rides." He motioned for her to follow him. "C'mon, let's go sign in and watch for a few minutes. We can stretch some more after that. We probably have another forty-five minutes or so before we go."

They wandered through small groups of soldiers in fatigues. Mingled in among them were slightly older-looking men, most in grey sweats. Bursts of cursing and shouting rattled across the clearing, both from those on the course and those encouraging them. Blood and sweat flowed in abundance, and Marine medics were omnipresent, bandaging and icing the less lucky participants. The more fortunate among them were coated liberally in mud, but were smiling and laughing at their achievement.

Fascinated, Brennan took in everything as they made their way to the check-in area. Every single aspect of the maelstrom surrounding her demanded her attention. Suddenly, she realized that she had yet to see a single female. She began to search the clusters of people, looking for several minutes before she spotted a small unit of extremely fit-looking women in olive drab. "Are those the only women here?"

He looked over, noting the insignias and ranks. "Marine Combat Development. You won't see many women here, Bones," he continued when she glanced curiously at him. "This course is a bitch, even for the guys." After registering, he guided her further up the hill to a better vantage point.

"But surely, mere physical strength isn't all that's required on this course. Mental acuity, speed, agility, all would factor in the type of performance given."

"Yeah, but muscle's a big plus here. Upper-body strength is critical for the rope climb and the walls, and other spots as well. Here." Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her firmly away from him. "Watch them. You're at a disadvantage, because you've never done this course before."

"I've done things _like_ this, Booth…"

"Doesn't matter. You've never done _this_ before. This is to the military what the bar is to lawyers. Except the lawyers don't wind up bleeding and injured afterward. You don't just come out here and pass the first time. It's not like anything you've ever seen. And it's long, longer than anything you're used to, I guarantee it. Now pay attention."

She sighed at his bossiness, but knew he was right. She _was_ at a physical disadvantage. She had to use her brain. She had to use everything she possessed. She spent the next twenty minutes studying the obstacles and participants with clinical detachment, shooting off terse questions to Booth now and again when she required more information. Even the sight of several men falling or failing to complete didn't disrupt her intense concentration.

When he finally dragged her away so they could begin their warm-up exercises, she was very quiet, and he stole a glance at her. "Changing your mind?" He knew better, but he had to ask. He wasn't about to let her go out there unless she was sure.

"Not a chance." Eyes dancing, head tipped to one side, she regarded him with light amusement. "Are you trying to get me to quit? Believe me when I tell you that that would be a complete waste of your time."

"Well, I just want to make sure that you aren't having second thoughts." He threw her an insolent grin. "Believe me, I can't wait to go head to head with you. This should be very interesting."

"I agree." She knew perfectly well that he was toying with her. Although she might be oblivious to most subtleties, she was much savvier where he was concerned. Determining the best course of action to take, she stretched for another moment, and then rolled to her back. "Can you help me?"

He paused mid-lunge. "With what?"

"My glutes. Will you help me stretch them?" Braced on her elbows, she sinuously curved one slim leg above her head and waited patiently, her fiery eyes glued on him. Triumph flared in her when he froze, swallowing noticeably. "Booth?"

Realizing he was gulping like a flounder, he hastily stood and walked to her, gripping her ankle. God, he was a hopeless case. Flounder was right. He always seemed to flounder when he was around her. Carefully, he pushed her, first one leg and then the other, unable to look away as he hovered over her. Every time he leaned forward, her lips parted slightly. She'd closed her eyes, and staring down at her like this was beginning to affect him. She looked just like she'd looked that morning when he'd accosted her in the bedroom. Maybe if she opened her eyes it wouldn't be so ridiculously arousing. "Is that enough?" Oh God, please let that be enough, he thought weakly when her lids lazily lifted. Seeing her eyes was most definitely _not_ better. She shouldn't look at him like that in public. "Bones."

The corner of her mouth twitched once. "What?"

"Was that enough stretching? Are you good?" His mouth dried up completely as she gracefully kipped up, standing in one fluid motion.

With them both in sneakers, their true difference in height was revealed, and she stepped close, staring up at him. "Yes, I believe that I am good. Thank you." She slowly switched her hips and strolled away. It was so much fun, playing with him like this. She never would have thought so before, but lately she was finding it difficult to resist. Bending at the waist, she worked her upper body, but stopped abruptly when she felt the heat of his body behind her. Slowly straightening, she twisted, glancing innocently at him.

He moved another inch closer, until their breath mingled. "You started it."

She smiled beguilingly, arching one delicate brow. "So?"

"I just want to make sure we're both clear on that." Leaning in, he smiled dangerously, his eyes dark and hot. "So there are no misunderstandings when I finish it." Pleased with her quick tremor, and the flash of surprise in her eyes, he smiled again and moved a short distance from her. Two could most definitely play that game. As a matter of fact, the game was way more fun with two.

The sound of their names being called snapped them out of their momentary sexual haze, and they jogged slowly over to the small line of participants waiting to start the course. The marine who'd summoned them waved them closer. "Booth and Brennan. Couple of things before you start. Course is slippery, got a lot of mud today."

"No problem, corporal." Booth took a moment to flick his gaze over the course again. "Heard the bear claw's doling out the shit today."

"Yeah, it is. Got problems everywhere, though." All business, he focused on them, reeling off the standard spiel. "If you have any trouble overcoming an obstacle, you may try it again, but must step aside for those coming up behind you. If you injure yourself, call for the medics. They're standing by all along the course. If you cannot overcome an obstacle, you may continue around it and attempt the rest of the course. However, your run will be marked as incomplete. Any questions?"

Brennan stepped forward. "Are the runs timed?" She glanced up briefly as a transport helicopter powered slowly over and past them, the _whup-whup-whup_ of the rotors so strong she felt it in her chest.

He turned to her, yelling to be heard over the noise. "All runs are timed. If you successfully overcome all the obstacles, your time will be given to you before you load on the transport for the ride back to the muster zone. If you return on foot, you can call the base for your times tomorrow. You're up in five. Pay attention – if you miss your start time, you will not be given another. Good luck."

She glanced at Booth as the soldier moved briskly to the pair waiting behind them. "He was very serious."

"Well, first, he's a marine, and second, this is serious business. People get hurt here, all the time." He tried to ignore the electricity crackling in the air, but it was no use. It was the memories of this place, of other places like it, other situations that had demanded this much physical exertion. He felt it every time he came here. And it was only more intense with Bones next to him. His competitive nature, strong to begin with, was kicking into overdrive. He could feel it in every muscle, every inch of skin. "You ready?"

"I'm ready." The couple before them started the course, and she knew they would be starting any moment. "Good luck, Booth."

He smiled warmly at her. "You too, Bones. See you at the finish line." The starter motioned them forward, and they took their places at the line.

"Sixty seconds to start."

She took one last look at him, aware before she did that he'd be looking back at her. Their eyes locked, unblinking, as they each silently acknowledged the current running between them.

"Thirty seconds…"

His smile was sharp and hungry, and she knew hers was the same.

"Ten seconds…nine…eight…seven…"

They turned as one and focused on the course. She tried not to look through each obstacle to the next - Booth's voice was loud inside her head. _One at a time, Bones._

"Go!"

They broke together, sprinting to the first obstacles, several low parallel logs. Her height served her well, and she sprang over them without much effort. The high bar was next. With her running start, she was able to spring up to it, swinging back and forth once before flipping her legs up and over in a backwards somersault. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Booth muscling his way over the bar. Still side by side, they dashed to the next set of logs, these higher than the last. Slapping her hands on them, she vaulted them cleanly and kept running. Her heart was pounding, her lungs working hard, but she'd never felt so alive, not ever before. _Pay attention. Don't get distracted._

She was doing just as well as he'd expected – she had perfect form so far, and was using her impressive coordination to her advantage. But the bear claw was next; now they'd see what was what. Grunting, he pushed off the last beam and gripped the metal bars, hissing as the stress sang up his arms. He swung his way down the bars to the attached timbers, kicking his leg over and standing on the steeply angled logs. To his shock, she was slightly ahead of him, nimbly picking her way down the incline. He kicked it into high gear, slipping once but recovering quickly. The wall was next, and he made up valuable time there, easily powering his way over.

She cursed viciously, struggling with the wall and finally clearing it. She hadn't expected that to be so hard. The next set of parallel logs was much higher, and she used her momentum, keeping her motions fluid and economical. He was slightly ahead of her, and she raced after him to the double metal bars. She'd need every bit of speed in order to jump high enough to hit the first bar. She grabbed it tightly, yelling from the effort as she swung one leg over and reached for the next, higher bar. The drop was huge, and the shock of the landing stung her ankles. _No time, no time_. She ignored the brief throbbing and sprinted after Booth, hopping over another set of low logs and approaching the rope. She'd worried about this one, and had taken her time studying it. Wrapping the rope around her leg, she began to quickly shimmy up the rope. She was doing a good job. Then she spotted Booth out of the corner of her eye and snarled. He was doing better, climbing the rope arm over arm, his muscles bunching and straining with the effort. She redoubled her efforts, ignoring the ache in her hands, the throbbing in her arms.

He tapped the top of the frame and quickly descended, taking a moment to check on Bones. She was nearly to the top, and he knew once she tapped she'd be down the rope in a flash and hot on his heels. His feet touched the ground and he ran full-out, panting, to the next set of parallel logs. _I really fucking hate these logs._ He could hear her coming, and he pushed harder, ignoring the machine-gun pounding of his heart. Another set of double bars was coming; he'd gain some ground there. But he hadn't counted on her learning curve, and she was more graceful this time, clearing it much more quickly. He gained a little more room at the next wall, and lost it at the second bear claw. They hit the barbed wire crawl almost simultaneously, but he knew she'd be through it before he was. Her smaller frame would serve her well, and he knew from experience that she was as slippery as an eel. Grimacing as the muck coated him, he clawed his way toward the out. He didn't even feel the bite of the barbs on his back as he scrambled after her, using the long distance to the last obstacle to gain back what he'd lost. The last wall and the run to the finish solidified his lead, and he finished several seconds before she did, roaring across the finish several yards ahead of her.

Blowing like a racehorse, he continued walking, passing the medic checkpoint before flopping to the dirt and rolling onto his back. The ground thumped under him as Bones collapsing by his side, heaving frantically. Neither was able to speak, and they lay motionless, both completely spent. After a few minutes, he struggled to his feet and held his hand out to her. "C'mon, gotta keep moving."

She stared up at him for a second before nodding, and gamely struggled past her exhaustion to grip his fingers. Several more moments passed in silence while they began the long trip down the return trail to the parking area. The din faded as they left the course behind, and the forest closed in around them.

She peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "You were better than me."

A snort of tired laughter escaped him. "Yeah, just, and I've been coming here for years. Jesus, Bones, I'm gonna bring you with me from now on. You really pushed me. Damn."

"I was slow at the walls, and on the rope." She felt her lips purse. "I could've gained a few more seconds on the logs."

He regarded her mutinous expression with astonishment, chuckling weakly. "Are you actually going to pick apart your performance? You've got to be kidding me. You were **incredible** out there, Bones! Your balance is ridiculous, and you're quick as a cat."

Sheepishly, she smiled at him. "I'm sorry – thank you. I can't help it. I **hate** losing."

"Well, you won't have to worry about that for long. Now that you have some experience on the course, you're only gonna get quicker. Meanwhile, I had to tear strips outta myself just to beat you." He twisted his upper body, wincing.

"What? Booth!" She grabbed his arm, spinning him and lifting his shirt. The wounds weren't very deep, but they were red and painful-looking "Why didn't you stop at the medic stand for treatment?"

"Relax, they're just scratches. It's not a big deal." He twisted again and grabbed her wrist, pulling her along the trail. "I've had worse, believe me." Grinning, he lifted his eyebrows at her. "I've had worse from _you_, come to think of it." His laughter rang out in the clearing as her mouth dropped open. "C'mon, we should keep moving."

Still concerned for him, she frowned, but nodded in agreement. They set off at a relaxed pace, each enjoying the comfortable silence. Within thirty minutes, the parking and outbuilding were in view, and they walked the rest of the way, Booth pounding on the door once again.

"So, you made it back alive! Shit – you two are more mud than man. Did you kick his ass, Dr. Brennan?" Reggie waved them inside and handed them each a bottle of water. "Tell me you schooled this cocky bastard."

Sighing heavily, she shook her head and swigged some water. "I'm sorry, Reggie, he beat me."

Noting her downcast expression and sad tone, Reggie misunderstood and hastened to commiserate with her. "That's okay, Dr. Brennan. You'll make it all the way through the next time. You have to get your feet wet the first time you're out there."

Booth beamed with pride. "No, dumbass – she _made it_."

"What?" Eyes wide, Reggie looked from one to the other of them in disbelief. "You made it all the way through, the first time?" When she nodded, he treated her to another spine-snapping hug, laughing merrily. "Goddamn, Booth, you really do have yourself a winner! I didn't say anything before you started about how difficult the course was because I didn't want you to be discouraged, but damn!" He straightened away from her. "This calls for official recognition. Stay here."

She stared after him in confusion as he strode down the hall and disappeared around the corner. "Where is he going?"

"He just needs to get something." Knowing full well what was coming, Booth smothered a smile and idly picked at some mud on the back of his hand. Soon the sound of rapid footsteps could be heard, and Reggie burst back into view, holding a large lump of cloth in one hand.

He stopped in front of Brennan and held out the mysterious package. "For your first successful completion of The Yellow Brick Road, this token is given to you as a reminder of your accomplishment." Removing the fabric wrapping, he placed a large yellow brick in her hand.

Booth laughed again at the look of consternation on her face. "Everyone gets one when they complete the course for the first time. Mine's at home somewhere. Congratulations, Bones."

Smiling, she stared at her gift and then back at Reggie. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, Reggie."

"You're welcome, Dr. Brennan. Congratulations." He turned back to Booth and clapped him on the shoulder. "So, numnuts – am I gonna see you next month?"

"As always, Reg. Gotta keep up, you know." His breath whooshed out during one last embrace. "Alright, get off of me, don't get all weepy. I promise I'll write."

"Listen, you jackass." Eyes fierce, Reggie stuck a finger in his face. "Don't come back again – _unless_ you bring Dr. Brennan with you. You hear?"

He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. "Don't worry – she'll be here. Isn't that right, Bones?" he asked as he swung to her. He saw a brief startled look sweep across her face, followed by a happy little grin.

"Yes. I would very much like to come back and improve upon my performance. Thank you very much for everything, Reggie. I had a very good time." She shook his hand, and finally they took their leave, piling wearily into the truck. As Booth turned toward the interstate, she looked intently at him, fiddling with her brick and watching him silently until he noticed where her attention lay.

He wasn't sure what she was thinking – he couldn't read her face, for once. That was very unusual for him. "Everything okay, Bones?"

As she continued to study him, little by little a beautiful, full smile spread over her face, warming her countenance and lighting up the interior of the truck. "Everything's just fine, Booth." She paused, then smiled an even wider smile and laid her hand on his leg as she had earlier in the day. "Thank you. I really did have a wonderful time. And I **will** beat you next time. That's a promise." When he returned the smile, she slid her hand further up his leg, nestling it comfortably against him and ignoring his answering groan. "Now, I suggest you hurry – we have a dinner date, and I'm just filthy. I think a nice, steamy, hot shower is in order. Don't you? After all, you did say we weren't finished…"

He looked away from her, stepped on the gas hard enough to snap both of their heads backward and growled through gritted teeth. "I couldn't agree more, Bones. I couldn't agree more.

She smiled and gave him an indolent squeeze.

**Okay. I'M tired, and I didn't even do the darn course! I'd much rather just watch. Well, I'd much rather just watch BOOTH, if I'm being perfectly honest...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Arg. I'm baaack! I hope you haven't given up on me - my stupid life interrupted yet again. Why don't those people I work with realize that I don't have time for my job? I have to write! Hopefully, this chapter will make up for the longer-than-normal wait, and put me in your good graces again. And tomorrow is an EXTREMELY tasty-looking, brand-new Bones episode! Yes! Maybe, just maybe this will tide you over until then...  
**

**THE BET  
**

"Ahh, c'mon, c'mon, **come on**! You have got to be kidding me!" Booth hit the horn again, leaning on it until Brennan reached over and slapped his hand. "Ow, what?"

"Will you stop it? Blowing the horn isn't going to make the traffic magically disappear. You're just annoying both of us." Pressing out of her seat, she craned her neck, trying to see further ahead. "Besides, I think it's going to clear – about a mile ahead or so it's thinning." She really hoped it was clearing up – if they didn't get home soon, they wouldn't be able to get ready in time for dinner with Angela and Jack. Sighing, she leaned back and crossed her arms, her brow wrinkling in frustration. Three hours. Three hours to make a one-hour trip. The northbound construction on the interstate, plus the two accidents _because _of the distraction the construction caused had completely thrown them off of their timetable. The elation she'd felt after they'd completed the course together was running hand in hand with aggravation at this point. It had taken every bit of willpower she possessed to refrain from ordering Booth to hit the lights so they could ride the shoulder home. She very much disliked being late for anything. "How much further do we have to go?"

"Five miles – the same distance as when you asked me ten minutes ago." He shifted, trying to ease the stiffness aggravated by their forced inactivity. "Hey - you were right, it is moving a little bit." Slowly they began to make progress, and soon they were sliding past the three-car accident, which at this point had been moved completely off the road. "You know, there really should be a ticket that the cops can issue for rubbernecking. What is _wrong_ with people?"

"It's anthropology, Booth." She swept her hand forward, indicating the clot of emergency vehicles. "The cultural configuration of a group of people witnessing an accident on the road changes from a cognitive communality, also known as the _eidos, _to an emotional communality, or _ethos_."

He made a face at her. "_Or, _a bunch of people on the road saw a bunch of pretty, blinky, woo-woo lights and lost their ability for rational thought." He raised his brows as she frowned at him.

"That's what I just said."

"Yeah, but the way _I_ said it actually _makes sense_." Pleased with himself, he grinned and focused on the road, confident he'd made his point.

"Well, if you needed me to oversimplify my explanation for your benefit, you only had to indicate your wishes. I suppose I should be happy that you managed to use the phrase _rational thought_ in a sentence." She waited until he turned to look at her and threw him an innocuous smirk.

He glared at her on principle, but simply couldn't work up his temper. Truthfully, he didn't mind their sparring; it was actually kind of stimulating. An excellent morning paired with the rapidly clearing traffic quickly drove away any lingering moodiness. Really, he didn't know how he'd survived his weekends before he spent them with her. More often than not, his plans with Parker were disrupted by Rebecca, whose breathlessly rushed phone calls always meant a visit cut short for one selfish reason or another. Even worse were the weekends when she completely canceled their plans and he didn't get to see Parks at all. Those weekends almost always led to too much television, too much scotch, and way too much brooding.

Well, they used to. Now, when his plans were changed last-minute, he'd restlessly pace through the apartment, his eyes eventually falling on his keys. Five minutes later – well, not even that long, if he was being honest with himself – he'd swipe them and be out the door, headed for her like a homing missile. A heat-seeking missile. He chuckled to himself at his lameness. She completed his days – so much so, even more than he'd expected when they'd made the bet. It wasn't just the sex, either, although the sex was the best he'd ever had – _ever_. He'd bust in on her, much like he had that morning, and they'd wind up doing something fun with whatever time they had left in the weekend. As her weekends were ruthlessly plotted out, she usually protested, but he persisted, and she almost always went along with him in the end. On the rare occasion that she couldn't be dissuaded, he'd still hang out while she worked, watching a game or two on the television she'd _finally_ bought, and eating everything in her fridge. He'd have to start bringing supplies with him soon, or she'd have nothing to eat when he wasn't there.

"Booth?"

Startled out of his musings, he glanced at her as he hooked a right onto her street. "Yeah?"

She checked her watch again. "We only have ninety minutes to get ready for dinner. You should drop me at my apartment and head home to get ready."

"Nah, we have time – I'll grab a shower at your place, and we can go from there."

She crossed her arms, amused at his lack of planning. "What are you going to wear?

"Well, I…fuck." He hadn't thought of that. What the hell _was _he going to wear? The prospect of rushing straight home to get ready was definitely not appealing, and not at all what he'd planned. _Shit_. _What now?_ "Well, you could grab your things and come with me. Get ready at my place. That way I wouldn't have to come back to pick you up. It'd save time…"

"No, I can't do that."

"Why not? What does it matter where you get ready?"

She bit her lip. "It doesn't normally. But I have everything laid out in my room; I don't want to disrupt my organization. I might forget a critical component of my outfit."

He punched the button for her floor, turning to her as the elevator doors closed. "I don't get it. Why would you forget?"

"Well…" She hesitated, clearly reluctant to answer his question. As they stepped out of the elevator, she sighed and relented. "Angela made me shop for tonight."

"_Uh-oh_."

"If I forget _anything_, Angela will be…very unhappy with me. At least, that's what she said. But I'm concerned that 'unhappy' is a euphemism for some sort of physical violence. She seemed quite serious."

"Well, you know, for most women, this whole dressing-up thing is pretty important. Guys…we tend not to care so much. And by 'not care so much', I mean 'don't care at all'. He chuckled and followed her into the kitchen. "Okay, so you're here, then. Damn, this really sucks. I don't suppose I left a suit here at some point?"

"No, you didn't." She gave him a small push toward the door. "You'd better go soon, or we'll be late. You know I hate –"

"I know, you hate to be late, I gotcha. Hold on a sec…I think I have a change of clothes in my gym bag. Wait a minute." Ignoring her frown, he grabbed the bag he'd left inside her door that morning and began digging through it. _Please be here, please be here…_

From her position by the sink she watched him, at a loss as to what he was doing. "There's definitely no suit in there, Booth." She became even more confused when he triumphantly pulled out a shirt and sweats. "How does this help you?"

Dropping the bag and the clothes back on the floor, he turned his head and peered at her. "It means _you_ can get ready, and then we can go to my place and _I_ can get ready."

"I still don't see how this plan of action saves us any time." She watched him as he slowly stood. Something about him - she wasn't sure _what_, but something - put her instantly on alert.

His grin deepened and spread, giving his face a slightly wolfish quality. "Well, it saves us time, because _now_ we can have that shower you mentioned." He took two slow steps toward her, his smile sharpening even more at the awareness he saw on her face.

Shaking her head, she crossed her arms in front of her. "Well, that would have been nice, Booth, but that traffic completely interfered with our schedule. We really don't have time. Even if you go home now, we'll probably be late. We have to save the shower for another day."

She was determined to have her own way; he could see that. Too bad for her he was determined to have _her_. _Good_. It only made what came next that much better. "You know, I'm really glad you said that." He saw the beginning of a smug smile on her face, and tilted his head insolently to the side. "That just means I get to convince you." The immediate, visible effect of his words on her had his body straining to be released. Rightly gauging her response, he sauntered to the doorway, blocking her access to the hall. "Sorry, Charlie. That'd be way too easy. Now, why don't you and I retire to the shower and discuss this further?"

"Booth." She was not tempted by him. She was _not_ going to give in, not matter how much she might want to. She _didn't_ want to. They had to hurry or they'd be late. Hands on hips, she impatiently walked forward, putting herself nose to nose with him. "We're running out of time – you need to _go get ready_." Without regard for his reaction, she pushed quickly past him and started down the hall to the bathroom. She swung the door closed, but it merely bounced off his solidly planted boot and sprang open again. "Stop it, Booth. We don't have time for your antics."

"I don't know, I think we have just enough time. I've been wanting to try out your fancy new shower." Easily holding the door open, he stepped in, toe to toe with her. "Besides, the way I see it, it's not so much my antics as it is me finishing what _you started_. Remember?" He glanced down at the firm hand she slapped against his chest, before merely smiling and placing his own over it. "Aw, you changed your mind, how sweet."

Being forced to back up in response to his advance left her feeling strangely vulnerable, to her disgust. And aroused beyond belief. "Booth…" She gamely fought the nervous laughter his actions were inspiring, but wasn't nearly as successful with the heat flaring deep in her belly. Firming her lips, she tried again. "I won't be bullied."

His lips curved in amusement. "Won't you?" His eyes flicked quickly past her, taking in the newly installed walk-in shower before returning to her. "Are you sure about that?" A single step brought them nose to nose. "You know, it's not bullying if we both want the same thing." His hand snaked around her waist, yanking her almost casually against him. "You feel that?" Her denial only challenged him, so he pulled her closer and aligned his hips even harder against hers. "You feel that. I know you do. It's for _you_. Besides," he whispered as he brought his other hand to her, tracing the caked mud that had dried on her face, in her hair, on her neck, "you're pretty filthy. You might need some help to get clean."

His words were starting little fires all over her body, and his talented fingers were spreading the flames. Almost uncontrollably, her stubborn nature reared up one last time. Her jaw jutted ominously; her eyes narrowed in a last-ditch effort to gain the upper hand. "I'm not going to give in, Booth."

"Don't you get it, Bones?" Quick as a flash, his smile disappeared, leaving only his dark eyes. Eyes that left her with nowhere to hide. "You already have." He abruptly crushed her against him, his hands tearing urgently at her mud-encrusted clothes as he dragged her to the floor with him.

"Oh, oh god, yes…" His large, rough hands were everywhere, pulling and tugging and ripping at her clothes, followed by his lips, his teeth, and the hot planes of his body. She arched, groaning in heady satisfaction as one particularly violent jerk tore her shirt from her, and she grappled furiously with him, needing his skin against hers. Rolling, she struggled, pinning him, but he answered in kind and flipped again, trapping her beneath him again. Not what she wanted, but what she needed. She needed him on top of her like this, needed the weight of him holding her down. Whining, she bucked under him, but he held her down, easily divesting her of her bra. One lazy fingertip teased her, drawing circles and lines and pretty patterns on her skin.

"Ah, look at you." Slowly now, he rubbed one nipple, then the other, avidly watching her quivering response. "You're all rose and ivory. So beautiful…and so dirty. Let's get you clean." Before she could wiggle or utter a word, he spun about to face her feet, still sitting on her to hold her in place. Deft fingers unlaced her boots, dragged off her pants.

She watched him, suddenly feeling oddly powerless, taking in the shape of his shoulders, the play of muscles in his back. The dark _want_ in his eyes when he flicked a hot glance back at her. As if surrounded by a thick, viscous fluid, she fought to raise her arms, to grip the hem of his shirt. Turning back to her, his hands joined hers, and together they peeled the fabric away. She traced his muscles, her clever fingers locating and indexing each scar, each birthmark. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen; he was perfect. She couldn't stop looking at him. With a quick, almost throwaway flick of his muscles, he stood and pulled her up, tight against him, and walked her backwards into the tiled shower. She still couldn't stop staring, studying every line and angle and feature.

He adjusted the controls, and soon hot water and steam were pouring into the enclosure. Heedless of the water streaming on them from every direction, he toed his boots off and kicked them aside. Spinning her in slow, drifting circles, he spread her favorite body wash over her, smiling at her answering tremor. His palms slicked slowly, soothingly over her, lathering her back and legs, soapy fingers gliding around and over and between her limbs, leaving soapy trails over her breasts, her nipples. "That's much better. You're so sweet, so smooth and lovely and clean now."

Her head dropped forward onto his shoulder, the sudden weakness unnerving her even as it felt so damned _good_. "Don't stop, don't stop…" Her reverie deepened with every touch of his wide, skillful hands.

Her arms circled him, and she began to share her lather with him, until he was also covered. Gently, so gently he barely felt the touch, the pads of her fingers worked the soap onto his back, tenderly cleaning the scratches running along his shoulders before soaping his arms and hands, his chest and abdomen. When he felt her touch sink even lower, his eyes closed and he gritted his teeth, trying desperately to hang onto his control while she lazily stroked him through his pants. His breath was coming in fast, sharp gulps – this sudden, soft mood she was in was killing him. To his surprise, she began to push him back until he sat with a soft thump on the shower bench. Hot water ran in rivulets down her body, streaking through the thick bubbles, highlighting and exaggerating her curves, and he gazed up at her in awe. Nothing he'd seen in his life had ever been so breathtaking. A knowing, dreamy smile grew on her face, almost as if she'd read his thoughts, and she sank to her knees in front of him. He only dimly registered her supple fingers working the buttons on his fatigues and tugging the sodden material down, and he somehow managed to lift his hips to help her. His heart, his mind, his lungs all stopped working at the first brush of her hands against his hips. He fought for breath as she soaped him thoroughly, her palms moving in seductive circles, pressing and rubbing, gripping and stroking, until his eyes rolled helplessly to the ceiling. This, this was what he wanted, what he craved. The stunning intimacy only they could share. This was what he experienced only rarely, when he was able to coax her to lower her guard. Just as the streaming water stripped all the soap from him, she stripped all thought from him. He wanted.

He looked to her again, his hands automatically reaching for her, but she leaned back, just out of his grasp. Smiling at his frustration, she shook her head, a minute gesture of control. She waited; he watched. Finally he dropped his arms, causing her smile to disappear, an intensity rearing up in its place. Her head dipped down, down to his thigh, and she nuzzled him, delighting in his hiss of reaction. A fierce burst of possessiveness flared in her, filled her body and head with a rush. Caught unprepared, she could only respond, and hungrily took him in her mouth, so lost in sensation she barely heard his broken moan. He was moving now, hard, jerking motions of his hips, so she gripped him tightly at the waist and continued her hot, slick journey up and down his hard length. Tasting, testing. Taking. His fingers thrust through her dripping hair, gripping tight, holding her to him, guiding her lips and following at the same time. His gasps and moans and curses echoed faintly in the room, almost drowned out by the streaming jets of water.

God. _God_. The world could wait – everybody, everything. _Nothing _mattered more than her, more than _here_. More than now. His release was swiftly rising in him, and he was determined to finish this with his arms around her. His hands loosed their death grip on her hair and dropped to her shoulders, tugging and pulling until her eyes rose to him. "Now," he rasped, grateful that he could speak at all at the sight of her watching him. Watching her. He saw the reluctant concession in her gaze, and he lifted her, pulled her up. She slithered onto him, kneeling on the bench, straddling his lap. His hands grasped her hips, his long fingers curling around luscious curves, pressing into soft, supple flesh. He looked up into her eyes. So light in color and yet so dark. Dark with desire, with need, with vulnerability. She was shaking, small droplets dripping from her face to his. Their breath mingled and merged as he pulled her close, as she sank down onto him. He felt her body yield to his, her slick folds stretching, surrounding him. She moaned into his mouth, sucking and tasting his lips and tongue with an almost maniacal fervor. Neither moved, but for their seeking mouths and heaving chests. Without haste, as if they had forever to be just as they were, they stared, each taking possession of the other.

He needed more, more of her. He needed every inch. Steadying her, he spread his knees, pulling her legs wider and allowing himself to sink that last little bit further inside her. A desperate, trembling whine flew from her lips, and she bowed backwards, a pale curve of muscle and softness and heat, her hands behind her, clutching his knees. "Fuck, yeah." Slowly, so slowly, she moved, just a tiny twitch of her hips, but it was all he needed to set him off, and he surged upward in reaction, penetrating her even more fully, forcing matching groans from both of them. She was allowing him to set the pace, bending even further backward, secure in his hands. Secure in her trust. If only she knew just how secure. He wasn't about to let go of her. He increased his tempo, bringing her more forcefully onto him, viciously pleased with her moaning response. Her breath wheezed in, shuddered out, and she writhed backward and forward, grinding lustfully against his hips, delighting in the feel of him inside her.

He drove into her, harder, grunting with the effort. Soon, it had to be soon. She was ready, too, her wild cries announcing her impending orgasm. Wanting to help her along, desperately wanting to _touch _her, he slid one hand around her waist, snugging her center more tightly against him. His free hand dropped down, brushing between her legs, stroking her, pulling and pressing urgently. It was more than enough. "Booth!" She came violently, flooding around him, her body clenching, clutching, locking into place. A full-throated scream ripped from her, and her convulsing body pulled his release from him. Teeth bared, head slamming back into the tiles, he emptied into her with a roar, gripping her hard enough to leave bruises as his hips plunged and jerked, as he hammered himself inside her. Heart racing, his body went lax, the only muscles still working those that were holding her to him.

*****

Gently falling water covered their bodies in a satiny, soothing warmth. He gradually became aware of sounds, and hazily realized it was her. She was panting, sobbing cries continuing to pry their way out of her throat. Sliding his hands along her arched back, he pulled her forward again until she was wrapped around him, still surrounding him. Eyes closed, he began to rock her, his movements almost imperceptible. Her listless arms were trapped at her sides, and her head lolled weakly on his shoulder. But the comfort he offered her began to work. Little by little she calmed, her cries becoming whimpers, which became hiccuping gasps. Finally, she took a large, deep breath, and he felt her hands slide to his waist. He avoided her eyes, knowing she was avoiding him as well. If he looked at her now, she would know everything. He wasn't ready to reveal himself. Not yet. Not that much.

He had known that he loved her for quite some time. It was impossible not to love her. But he was totally unprepared to discover that he was completely, irrevocably _in love_ with her. What the hell was he going to do now?

**What the hell, indeed? I suppose it wouldn't be Booth and Bones if they didn't wind up getting more than they bargained for, right? Hope you enjoyed this little interlude - and doesn't that shower sound fantastic? (I'm hoping for the Booth-accessorized version for my birthday...)**


	12. Chapter 12

**It has been very kindly pointed out to me that it is not the best idea to keep posting tags when I haven't updated my multi-chapter fic in over two weeks. You are absolutely correct, and I apologize. Bad author! So, as a gift for those of you who have been waiting so patiently, here is the next chapter - quite a bit longer in length than previous chapters. More BB for your buck! I hope you are satisfied with my effort, late though it may be - if you would like to reach out to me, either to comment, or to yell at me for the lengthy delay, you are, of course, ALWAYS welcome. To WaterPig83 - Fort Bliss did do basic training, but they discontinued it in 1990. My brother did his basic there - so, you are correct, as I was basing my fic on old info. If you want to register here, I could always use a knowledgable military technical advisor! (Hint hint) If not, then thank you for your information on my previous chapter - you are a font of information! And now, I will leave you to it, and start working on the next chapter, like a good girl. **

**THE BET**

"Are you _sure_ you're on your way?" Angela tapped one elegant finger against her celphone. "Because I know you, sweetie – your ten minutes _can_ and _has_ turned into ten _hours_." She listened for another minute before interrupting. "No, I'm not saying you're chronically late, I'm just saying that you can get – sidetracked – by work. You know what, let me just talk to Booth."

"Late, huh?" Amused, Hodgins leaned back in his chair sipped his wine.

"She swears they're almost here, but I want to talk to him and make sure." A long-suffering sigh filtered through her lips at the sound of the voices transmitting clearly through the phone. "And now they're arguing."

"Well, some things never change." He squeezed her knee companionably. "Any other couple that argued that much would've killed each other by now." Absently he waved away the hovering waiter. "Thank God _we_ don't fight like that. You'd have pulverized me a long time ago."

She chuckled and aimed a meaningful stare at him. "You know it. Better watch those black-eyed peas, Earl. Booth? Where are you? Okay…okay, fine. Just turn left at Georgetown Tee's from Wisconsin. We're here, toward the back of the room, in the corner. Okay, bye." She dropped her phone in the black miniature Jack had given her for Christmas. "They're five minutes away – we should crack another bottle of wine." She swung back to him, frowning, when he didn't immediately answer. "What's wrong?"

He only stared for a moment, the look on his face somewhere between awe and amusement. "Black-eyed peas? Have I told you lately that you scare me, sometimes?"

She purred and leaned closer, pressing her lips to his for a lengthy, pleasurable moment. "Have I told you lately that I adore you, all the time?" She pressed against him for another quick embrace before sitting back and grinning saucily at him. "You play your cards right tonight, buster, and you just might get lucky…"

Feigning disinterest, he casually sipped at his wine. "As opposed to the last six nights when…nope, no, as I recall I got lucky the last six nights in a row."

"Oh, ha ha. If you want to make it seven, you'd better get that waiter back over here."

*****

Saturday evening in Georgetown was living up to its frustrating reputation. They'd circled the block four times without so much as spotting a single open space for parking. At least, a space that the mammoth Tahoe could fit into successfully.

Brennan flipped her phone closed and forced it into the absurdly small evening bag Angela had made her buy. "Booth, we're late as it is – if we don't find something soon, we'll have to call them back and reschedule. Try Wisconsin again." Brennan fidgeted in her seat, fighting the urge to simply hop out of the truck the next time it stopped. Outwardly she was calm, but she'd felt slightly less than normal since their shower. Neither had spoken of it afterward. They'd simply treated it as just another moment between them, one more sexual encounter to add to the rapidly growing list. But she hadn't felt that exposed – that emotionally vulnerable – in a long time. Maybe never. She was sure he was aware of this fact. Despite that, or perhaps _because_ of it, he'd appeared willing to ignore it for the moment. They'd hidden their reluctance to talk behind the rush to get ready. If he'd pushed her, insisted on talking, she simply wouldn't have known what to say. She wouldn't have known what to say because she didn't know what to think. Didn't know at all what she was feeling. So she was grateful for his tact and gladly pretended with him.

"I tried Wisconsin three times already, Bones. There wasn't anything at all." His sense of humor kicked in belatedly, and he shook his head in good-tempered disgust while hooking a left on Prospect. "It's amazing that a neighborhood with so little parking doesn't have a dedicated Metro stop. What the hell were they thinking?"

Never one to be deterred once she'd made up her mind, she merely stared at him until he was finished speaking. "There were too many difficulties in negotiating the steep grade from the Potomac River. You know, Booth, you drove down Wisconsin three times in one direction, but never tried making a right. I think you should check down at the other end."

"Just let me find the parking, okay, Bones? I can manage just fine, thank you. Finding parking in D.C. is an art, you know. You just have to be in the right place at the right…aha, time!" Grinning at his success, he pulled into the last open space in the small public lot. He was glad a spot had appeared – he'd been ready to park on the street and stick his badge on the dash.

"That makes no sense, Booth – being in the right place at the right time implies a random coincidence, and has nothing to do with any talent on your part."

"Well, either way, we're parked, so let's get going. Come on…" He took her hand and began tugging her through the darkness toward M Street, ignoring her continued comments on everything but the weather.

"If we cut through this alley, we can get there much faster. In fact –" She stopped when he abruptly reversed their positions, effectively trapping her against the Abercrombie & Fitch storefront. "What are you doing?"

No matter how often he surprised her, he never grew tired of her reactions. Enjoying her sudden wariness, he pushed forward another inch, placing two very proprietary hands on her hips. "I'm going to kiss you until you can't talk anymore." He leaned in, only to come up short when she planted her hand against his chest for the second time that day. "Problem?"

"I'm not going to kiss you, Booth. Angela made me promise to arrive on time and dressed exactly as she directed. I'm already late – I'm not about to ruin my makeup before she sees it. She was quite insistent."

He only smiled, a cocky combination of sharp, snapping brown eyes and sensuous lips. "Not a problem." Quickly ducking his head down, he fastened his mouth hungrily on the base of her throat, thrilling in her high-pitched cry and quick shudder. She moaned, and her neck vibrated against his lips. He only pressed harder, suddenly ravenous for the sweet, spicy taste of her, drowning in the lovely clean fragrance just under her jaw. His palms slid behind her, pulling her even closer to his powerful frame.

The firm nip of his teeth on her sensitive skin made her jump in reaction. No thought came, no word came, only sensation after sweet sensation swamping her until her eyes drifted shut and her head tipped back against the wall. Needy hands slid along his shoulders as she attempted to grip the pewter fabric of his suit jacket in suddenly nerveless fingers.

After several minutes, his hunger only mildly assuaged, he leaned back slightly, satisfied that he'd at least won a moment's silence from her. His blood roared with frustration when he saw the raw need in her eyes, the loss of control in her breathlessness. "Maybe we should postpone after all - 'cause I gotta tell you, I'm all for getting back in the truck."

Somehow she found enough air to speak. She hadn't been sure she would be able to, for a moment. "We can't go home now, Booth. We're almost there."

"Who said anything about going home?" His eyes darkened impossibly, and his smile deepened. "I just want to get back in the truck. After all, _you_ were the one who _educated_ me about just how versatile the Tahoe is…" He brought his hand to her cheek, his thumb gently tracing her mouth. "Wanna play double date hooky, Bones?" Before she could answer, he laid his thumb firmly across her lips. "And don't tell me you don't know what that means," he breathed, "because I think you do."

She wanted to. She was amazed by just how powerful the urge was to take him by the hand and drag him back to the truck. Where they could be alone. Where he could put his hands on her. No matter how many times they were together, her sexual interest in him hadn't waned in the least. If anything, now that she was cognizant of just how compatible they were, she only wanted him more. It was like Angela sometimes said…Angela. With a start, she realized his hands were riding up under her coat, and she hastily pushed him away, straightening her ensemble with slightly trembling hands. "We have to go, Booth. Angela and Hodgins are waiting." She pushed off the wall and began to walk again, and he fell into step beside her with a low chuckle.

After a minute, he turned to her curiously. "You're walking pretty slow, there, Bones, for someone who's in a hurry."

Cross, she hissed in frustration. "It's these shoes. They're even higher than the heels I wore in Las Vegas. I'm having trouble walking in them."

He dropped back marginally, enjoying the spectacular hip action the shoes encouraged. "I don't know. You look pretty good to me…" When she threw him an impatient look, he stepped to her again. "Here, let's try this." Quick as a whip, his arm darted out and pulled her tight against his side, hitching her slightly against his hip. He took a couple of experimental strides before looking at her again. "Better…Roxy?"

"Actually, yes, it is better." She draped her arm over his shoulder, easily finding a comfortable spot. With him lending his balance, it _was_ much easier to make progress. She'd forgotten that they'd done that in Vegas. "Thanks, Tony."

They grinned at each other for a moment before he thought of her outfit. "Angela's not gonna kill me for wrinkling your dress?"

"That shouldn't be a problem. I wouldn't worry about it."

He adopted his most wheedling tone at her vague answer. "You know, I wouldn't be worrying about it if you had just let me see what it looked like back at the apartment." Seeing that his argument was being completely ignored, he felt obligated to whine a bit. "I don't know _why_ you wouldn't let me look at it…"

She turned an all-too-knowing gaze on him. "I wouldn't let you look at it because if I had, we'd still be at the apartment. Don't bother to deny it," she challenged, stopping him in mid-protest, "because you know it's true."

He smiled, a quicksilver flash of teeth just barely visible in the darkness. "Bones! I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, shut up, Booth."

*****

The atmosphere in the club was subdued and elegant. A small jazz band played smoky blues and jazz classics, and the dance floor was well-filled. They finally worked their way through the crowd and found their table, a task made easier by the sight of Angela bouncing up and down in her chair and waving like a madwoman.

"Sweetie! Okay, that was more like fifteen minutes. I was really beginning to wonder if you'd changed your minds about coming…"

"Almost," Booth breathed hot in her ear as he removed her coat. Her quick tremor was extremely gratifying, and as arousing as hell. Then she spoke, and his smile quickly faded.

"It was Booth's fault, Angela."

"Wait a minute, why was it _my_ fault? What about the shoes?" He turned to Angela and pointed at the floor. "She couldn't walk in those shoes you made her buy. I had to _help_ her."

"Nope, the shoes aren't allowed to be blamed." She peered adoringly at the camel peep-toe pumps adorning Brennan's feet. "Christian Louboutins are a law unto themselves – they have an automatic pardon. Besides," she drawled, her deadpan expression slicing expertly into Booth, "I can tell why you're late." Balling up her napkin, she threw it at his head. "She's not a _chew toy_, Booth."

He snorted with laughter, delighted with her wit. "Yeah, well, she wouldn't stop complaining." Turning to admire his handiwork, he nearly swallowed his tongue when she turned toward him as well. "Jesus Christ, Bones…"

The stretch satin showcased her body to perfection, the bodice hugging her tightly while the skirt subtly skimmed her hips before ending just above the knee. Two small straps were the only things keeping her impressive curves from bursting forth, as the bustier neckline was as daring as anything she'd ever worn before. The smoky navy color darkened her eyes and set off her skin, making her seem luminous in the low lighting. The effect was heightened by the complete absence of any jewelry.

"Oh, Bren, you look so beautiful!" As Booth seemed to be transfixed, she pushed impatiently past him and enveloped her friend in an effusive embrace. "Here, come with me, you can use my powder. I want a perfect mental picture of all of us, and it won't be if you have _teeth marks_." Her indulgent smile softened the sting of her words, and she clutched Brennan by the elbow. "C'mon, let's go…"

"But – wait, I don't understand. Why do we have to go together? I'm perfectly capable of fixing my own makeup…" Meeting Angela's eyes, she suddenly remembered one of her friend's lessons. "Oh, is this the part where two females go to the bathroom at the same time so they can have a private conversation and compare their lover's attributes?"

"Yes, honey, although we don't usually tell the men. It's just one of those little secrets women like to keep. Come on, let's go."

"What about men? Don't men go to the bathroom together?"

"No, no, no, not gonna happen!" Jolted out of the reverie he'd been in since he'd seen her in the dress, Booth spit out a hasty denial as Hodgins choked on his Cabernet. "Men do _not _go to the bathroom together."

"Ever," Hodgins managed, his eyes watery, as he managed to finally inhale, "ever. Not ever."

"Not even at the point of a gun, Bones." Booth shuddered at the thought, casting his eyes around hastily to make sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation.

"All right, you He-Men – we get it. We'll be back soon. You and Booth go ahead and order some appetizers for us, Hodgins. I told you what Bren and I will want." She pulled Brennan along behind her, ignoring her friend's pointed questions about male and female stereotypes and gender equations.

In the relative quiet following their departure, Booth and Hodgins eyed each other nervously. Finally, Hodgins broke the silence.

"Man, _that_ was awkward. I feel like we were assaulted or something. Maybe we should talk about something extra manly now to compensate. Know any sports scores?"

Booth stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "You're kidding, right?" Brushing his hands together, he eagerly sat forward and grabbed his glass of wine. "NHL, NFL, MLB, NBA or collegiate?"

*****

"So?"

Well-used to Angela's one-word interrogation techniques, Brennan sat calmly at the table in the powder room and pulled out her comb, glancing over at her friend. "So, what?"

"So, what'd you guys do all day? Because if I know that man, and I think I do, you did _not _spend your whole day working. What time did he manage to drag you away from your book, and what did you do? Picnic, movie, slow lazy afternoon rolling around in bed together?"

"Actually, I didn't work at all today." She casually leaned back, waiting for a response.

Stunned, Angela dropped into the seat next to her. "Wait a minute. You, Temperance Brennan, did _no_ work of any kind today?" She goggled at Brennan as she shook her head. "Okay – I think that must be one of the signs of the Apocalypse. Either that, or Booth is _way_ more talented than even _I_ thought…"

"It's true, Angela. We spent the entire day together, and I didn't do any work whatsoever. Booth came to my apartment first thing this morning to take me to Quantico."

"But I thought you said you didn't work – what were you doing there?" Mystified, Angela crossed her arms and stared demandingly at Brennan. "Out with it, honey. I want to know everything." She listened as Brennan described her day, going into detail about what they'd done and how she'd fared on the course. She watched her carefully while she related her adventure. Saw her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle, and heard the excitement in her voice when she described her experience. Wisely she smothered a chuckle. _Smart man. Oh smart, smart man._ When Brennan finally began to wind down, Angela saw her moment and spoke. "Wow, that's one of the most romantic things anyone's ever done for you. He is _really _good."

"I don't understand, Angela." A frown briefly marred Brennan's brow. "There's nothing romantic about a muddy, grueling obstacle course."

"The hell there isn't, sweetie. Booth knows what you like, he knows who you _are_, and he took the time and made the effort to plan something that you, specifically, would enjoy. Not just enjoy, but something you would absolutely _love_." She fanned herself with her bag. "If that ain't romance, I don't know what is." Digging in her bag, she pried out her lipstick and began touching up her lips. "So that's why you were late?"

"Well, partly. We hit some terrible traffic on the way back to D.C."

"Only _partly_? Do tell - what else kept you?" When Brennan remained stubbornly silent, her smile widened until she was grinning like a fool. "Ah, so _that's_ why you were late. I should've known. Mr. F-B-yootiful-Eyes can't keep his hands off you." She managed to avoid crowing in triumph, yet couldn't help but preen a bit. "I love it! And I'd imagine you love it, too, don't you?"

"I'm not going to talk about this, Angela. It's just sex…"

"Well, I'm betting it's really, really, _really_ _amazing_ sex. After all, you're sleeping with a guy who's hotter than a nuclear bomb. All that Booth flesh has _gotta_ have an effect on you." She knew it did. In fact, she would bet her next tequila bender that her friend was beginning to admit that she felt more for Booth than just physical attraction. Finally she relented, seeing that she wasn't going to get anything more from her. "Okay, here." She pulled out her compact and handed it to her. "You can use this to cover that up."

"What am I supposed to cover?" She turned toward the mirror to study her reflection. The minute she saw it, she was back there again. Back on the street, pinned to the wall with Booth's mouth on her throat. The marks he'd left weren't overly vivid, but there was no mistaking them for anything but what they were. A stamp, a brand. An undeniable mark of possession. Her fingers lightly traced the area of reddened skin. Part of her wanted to dismiss it as irrelevant. Another part of her wanted to resent it, and resent him. But a small, guilty part of her thrilled to the sight of it, the sight of this tangible evidence of his desire for her. That part of her feared, and wanted, and waited. Automatically she smoothed on the powder, watching as the marks faded. But she knew they were still there. An invisible ink that burned her skin and reminded her just how risky their relationship might become. And how risky it already was. A look of grim determination settled on her face. She was up to the challenge – she could handle herself. She quickly snapped the case shut and handed it to Angela. "Are you ready? I'd like to go back to the table now."

"Sure, honey, let's go knock our dates out with our pulchritude."

*****

By the time they threaded their way back to the table, the appetizers had been served, and it was clear from the raised voices at the table that a heated discussion was under way. Angela walked up behind Hodgins and threaded her hands through his curls. "Now now, boys – play nice. Do you two need a time out?"

Booth ushered Brennan to her chair, smiling easily. "Nope, we're fine, Angela. No problem here."

"Like hell there isn't!" Incensed, Hodgins took a healthy swig of his wine. "Booth's dissing the Capitols star forward. Man, _no one_ can touch Backstrom this year, and you know it!"

Casually stirring the scotch he'd ordered, Booth shrugged and smirked condescendingly at the feisty scientist. "If you say so…"

Brennan looked from Booth to Hodgins. "I don't want to say I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm confused…"

"It's hockey, Sweetie. Don't even bother trying to understand." She turned and addressed the table at large. "Attention, men – the women are now at the table, and all meaningless sports talk will cease. Ooh, Cajun Fries – try these, Bren, they're really good."

They worked their way through several bottles of wine and numerous different dishes, the conversation swirling from work to art to current events. The music swirled and grew, and shortly after Booth excused himself from the table for a moment, Hodgins pulled Angela away for a dance. Brennan watched them, intrigued by their closeness, amazed at how _comfortable_ they appeared. She felt a soft, liquid pull in her chest when Hodgins cupped Angela's face and place a quiet, tender kiss on her lips. They were beautiful together. They laughed one moment, sparred the next, but always turned to each other in the end. She was so absorbed in her study of them that she failed to notice that Booth had returned until something soft stroked her cheek. Startled, she turned her head and was instantly swamped by the lovely fragrance of the rose he held. Her hand automatically reached out and curled around the stem. "Booth – where did you get this?"

"I noticed a flower store around the corner – the roses in the window were beautiful." His blunt fingers stroked the creamy petals as his eyes locked on hers. "The color reminded me of your skin."

Her heart leapt in her chest at his words. "Booth…"

"You don't realize how beautiful you are, do you? It's not just on the outside, either. You're beautiful inside and out. You know, sometimes I look at you and I can't even breathe." He draped his arm around her, pulling them closer together. "You feel so good near me. Just to have you right here, with me?" His eyes crackled with intensity. "It's _perfect_. Everything seems better when you're with me."

She opened her mouth to speak again and his lips were on hers, gentle and yet strong, hard and yet soft. Her eyes blinked shut and she gave herself over to the moment completely. The room, the people, the music, everything simply disappeared. When he pulled her toward him, she braced her hands on his thighs and leaned over, deepening the kiss, her tongue and lips demanding more and more from him. Slowly, so slowly, they pulled apart, yet so close, so close that it was still just the two of them. His eyes were everything. Kindness and desire, caring and need. It was too much; too much for her. It was a flood of emotion she couldn't control. She had to regain control. She managed to smile and trailed her fingers to the inside of his thigh, pleased and relieved by his answering rumble. Her eyes and fingers spoke volumes as she drew the tip of one finger along him, and then cupped him boldly before he could stop her.

"Bones…God, Bones…" His teeth gritted, he tried to focus on her, tried not to lose control. They were in a public place – not the best spot for this particular type of torment. "Bones, stop."

"Okay, who called 'Grope your Partner Hour' and didn't tell us?" Angela plopped into her seat, smiling playfully at them. "Quick, Jack, we're late. Come here and grab me."

Still surreptitiously stroking him under the table, Brennan turned innocent eyes on her friend. "I don't know what you're talking about, Angela. We're just sitting here, enjoying the music."

Booth merely closed his eyes, praying for strength. A particularly strong pass of her fingers set off an answering shudder, and he gulped convulsively.

"Listen, Brennan, don't try to fool me." Angela leaned forward on her elbows. "I've played with Hodgins in restaurants before, and I know exactly what it looks like."

Hodgins rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, laughing helplessly. "Ange!"

"God just strike me down right now…" Booth prayed in earnest.

"So what if I am?" Brennan gave Booth one last squeeze before casually reaching for her drink. "We both have very strong sexual appetites, and that necessitates much more frequent and intense contact than a normal couple. For example, I'm sure I make him orgasm harder and longer than his previous partners, and I know I keep him much more satisfied."

Ignoring the hysterical laughter from across the table, Booth shoved his chair back and tossed down his napkin. Grabbing Bones' wrist and tugging her up, he pulled her after him. "Okay, we're dancing now, enough talking, let's go." He spun her out onto the dance floor, holding her close, both for cover and because he just wanted her against him. "Bones, what the hell was that? Why did you say that?"

She blinked at him in surprise, but answered promptly. "Why not? If it's true, why is it such a big deal?"

"Because it's private," he ground out tersely. "Because my orgasms are my own. I can't believe we're actually discussing this…"

She smiled wickedly and leaned even closer. "Well, you know, Booth, they're not just yours. A part of every one is _mine_, too."

The roaring in his head increased, and his eyes narrowed when he realized what she'd said. Without conscious thought, he backed her into a dark corner, bringing her up hard against him. "Watch it, Temperance…"

Bullheaded, she pushed him for an answer. "I want to know why you're so determined to keep your orgasms a secret, Booth. We're all sexually active adults, and Angela is always saying provocative things." Her expression changed; a slight flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "Is it because they're _not_ great, and you don't want anyone to know?"

"No, that's not the reason. You want to know why? I'll tell you why." He kissed her again, hot and heavy and ferocious, until he forced a desperate groan from her. "I don't want to tell anyone about them because they're fan-fucking-tastic, and I'm not about to share with anyone."

"You don't want to share them?" she managed, her knees nearly knocking from the passion he was inciting with his actions and words.

"No, Bones. Share _you_. I'm not about to share _you_ with anyone."

"I don't belong to you, Booth – I thought I made that clear." She made as if to push away from him, but he only tightened his grip and kissed her again, their mouths tangling and twisting, the open desire flooding their bodies until they were both panting against each other.

He groaned, the craving he felt for her almost overwhelming. "I have news for you, Bones. When I'm inside you, you're _mine_. And don't bother getting all up in arms, because it goes both ways." He smiled seductively at the sudden flash of understanding in her eyes. "Get it? You _own_ me when we're making love – I belong to _you_. And you belong to me. That's what it's all about, what we do when we're alone. So don't even _pretend_ that you don't know it, because you do."

"That's not true," she breathed, confusion welling up in her. He didn't seem angry, but he wasn't exactly happy, either.

He continued as if she hadn't even spoken, the warm, loving fire of his gaze heating her from the inside out, somehow keeping her anger at bay and silencing her. "The things we whisper in the dark to one another. The things no one else has a right to know. The things we say and do that strip us bare. They're_ ours_. No one else's. The tears you shed when I'm inside you. The way you bring me to my knees. Those things belong to_ us._"

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, neither able to speak. The thing they'd avoided discussing was out in the open now. And neither one was prepared to deal with it. The band began their next song, and Booth was brought back to the present by the sound. Fighting his needs, he managed to loosen his hold on her, and began moving her around the floor again.

"Booth?"

"Shh. I requested this song. Remember it?" He circled her slowly, his intense stare piercing her defenses. "From that first night…"

"I…'These arms of mine.'" She felt like she was in a trance, like he was hypnotizing her with his eyes and his caressing, stroking hands. Unable to look at him anymore, she turned her face and rested her head on his shoulder. "I remember." It had all seemed so simple then. She'd wanted, and had acted on it. No hesitation, no doubt, no emotions to complicate anything. Now everything was so difficult. Not Booth himself. He was still wonderful. But everything else was so hard. She just wasn't good at this. But he was giving her this moment, and she'd take it. She just needed to calm down. Hadn't she told herself she could do this? Everything would be all right. She'd make sure of it. Calmer, she closed her eyes and let Booth and the song take her where they wanted.

They drifted lazily back and forth, but all too soon the last notes faded. The next song had already started when Booth felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned with a snarl, intending to send whoever the hell it was packing, only to see Angela and Jack dancing next to them. "Hey."

"Mind if we cut in? I haven't danced with you since the Christmas party, and I want to see if you're actually as good a dancer as I remember. Besides, Jack desperately wants to ask Brennan a _work_ question - ugh - and he made me promise him that he could. Whadda ya say, Booth?"

"He couldn't help but smile at her engaging manner. "I don't know. What do you think, Bones? Wanna switch off for a dance?"

She didn't. Suddenly she didn't want to let him out of her sight, but she couldn't see a way out of it. "All right." They switched, and she watched him move away from her with Angela. She wondered at the sudden tightness in her chest, but realized with a start that Hodgins was talking, and hastily began listening to him. It was several minutes later when they were discussing Zach's latest crazy idea that she felt the hair on her neck prickle. Before they'd even turned in a complete circle she craned her neck around, already knowing what she'd see. He was watching her intently as he danced with Angela, his attention focused completely on her. If there had been a thousand people in the room she would have felt like she was alone with him. She didn't care if anyone noticed. She kept dancing with Hodgins. She watched Booth. And she wondered.


	13. Chapter 13

**Well. It's 5 AM, and I'm just fnishing my latest chapter. With a job that's advancing on 50 hours a week, the middle of the night seems to be the only way I can get it done! Can't see straight, definitely can't type straight, but I'm so happy it's done. Hope you like it, and as always, I love to hear from you.**

**THE BET**

"Oh please, Jack, can't you make this car go faster?"

Alerted by her urgent tone, Hodgins glanced wide-eyed over at Angela, and then quickly back at the road. "Oh, I'm hurrying, _believe me_, I'm hurrying." Turning into the estate, he ruthlessly gunned the engine, causing his already-overtaxed Mini to whine in protest. "We're almost there."

"Yeah, says you – your driveway is _four_ _miles long_. I can't wait that long." Deciding she'd had enough, she flung off her seatbelt with a metal _clank _and threw herself across the seat at him. "Once we get there you can catch up with me."

The soft, warm lips currently attacking his jaw were distracting him greatly, and he fought to keep his eyes from crossing as they rocketed past the tennis courts. "Jesus, Ange, can't you wait two more minutes?"

"I can't, there's no way…those two got me so hot I can't stand it. Hurry up!"

"That's it." The car jerked to a drunken halt in the middle of the driveway, and he shoved open his door, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her out after him. He managed to take several wobbly steps before collapsing onto the dewy grass, and Angela quickly straddled him, tearing madly at his shirt. When he heard her giggle, he began to laugh as well, the madness of their actions finally hitting him. "This is ridiculous. Simple proximity to them shouldn't have caused this reaction." Beaming up at her, he drank in the allure of her perfect face surrounded by a perfect framework of stars. "Oh man, it really _did, _though!"

"I _know_! They were throwing out _major_ sex vibes to each other - I nearly burst into flames when I was dancing with Booth, my God!" She arched her body and raised her arms to the sky, smiling and tipping her head back. Her hair shook out behind her like a river of shadows, brushing his knees with satiny softness. "Did I mention how much I love your very large and _extremely_ private property?"

"We aim to please, madam…five acres and _plenty _of attractive and thick shrubberies. We can do whatever we want, _wherever _we want."

His hands were smoothing their way up her legs, and she smiled in satisfaction when his fingers began inching their way under her skirt. "Mmm…what about Zach?"

He barely paused to answer her as he busily nuzzled her torso. "I told him if he set foot outside after midnight that the dogs would attack."

"What? You don't _have_ any dogs, Jack. Zach knows that."

"I told him I'd buy some, and tell them to attack. Doesn't matter, point was made." He nuzzled her hungrily. "Man, you smell _so good_…could you believe the two of them tonight? God, I feel like I stuck my finger in a light socket!"

Before he could move or form a thought, she settled herself more securely on him, lapping at his neck like a cat to the cream. When he groaned and shifted under her, she quickly twisted her arms and yanked her dress over her head. "I can think of much better places you could be putting your fingers…"

A low, determined chuckle was his only answer as he rolled her over and set out to find them.

*****

"So, where are we going tonight?"

Startled out of her thoughts by Booth's question, Brennan blinked and glanced at him. "What?"

"Your place or mine? Which way am I going?"

"Oh – yours is fine with me."

A small, slightly calculating smile darkened his face. "Okay." With a quick flick of his wrist he sent the truck left instead of right. He was willing to play along for now. After another few minutes of silence he looked at her again. "You're pretty quiet. Whatcha thinkin' about, Bones?"

"Nothing." Realizing she'd answered too hastily, she elaborated. "Nothing important, really. I was just wondering about Angela and Hodgins."

"What about 'em?"

"They seem so happy." She frowned at the tone in her voice. What was that? She didn't begrudge her friends their happiness. She was glad for them.

"Well, of course they are, Bones. They're in love. Love makes you happy."

She shifted impatiently. "That's what everyone says. But it seems to me that love makes people happy, until it doesn't."

His amused chuckle filtered over to her. "Truer words were never spoken, Bones."

"But that makes no sense." Twisting, she faced him. "It's not rational."

Her tone and body language were clear indicators that she was disturbed by this train of thought. Perhaps a change of subject was in order. Their date had been so perfect he was loathe to end the feeling. And a discussion about emotions and love was sure to put a kink in the works. "Ah, c'mon, let's not get all serious now. Tonight's for fun."

"It is?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't you have fun tonight, Bones?" He began to work his way into a parking space near the corner.

"I wouldn't say I had fun, necessarily..." Contemplating his question, she looked at him and saw the carefully blank expression on his face. Experience had finally taught her that he looked like that when he was disappointed. She sighed inwardly. Yet again, she wasn't making herself understood. Racking her brain, she tried again, picking her words more carefully. "Fun isn't really an accurate word. I didn't laugh a lot, but I did have a very nice time, Booth."

"You did?" He smiled warmly at her. "Good. Me too." He supposed she was right. They'd had a chance to relax a bit at the table with Hodgins and Angela before leaving. But he wouldn't exactly call that look she'd thrown him on the dance floor _fun_.

They made their way upstairs in companionable silence, leaning close in the dimly-lit elevator, his arm slung casually over her shoulders. He heard a sigh of relief escape her lips when they finally reached his apartment, and he tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, setting his off-duty next to it. Those shoes had to be bothering her – she'd been in them for hours. "Why don't you get more comfortable, Bones? Take whatever clothes you need." He carefully hung his jacket on the hook back in the entryway. "I'm gonna grab some water, I'm thirsty as hell. You want?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you. I'll be back in a minute."

His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the bedroom – watching her going was just as much fun as watching her coming, hah – and he was suddenly reminded of their first date, when she'd changed into her sloppy pajamas afterward. Smiling, he snagged a glass from the cabinet and stood at the sink, absently filling it while he remembered. She could wear his clothes anytime. He liked seeing his shirts and pants and boxers wrapped around her willowy frame. It was almost like _he_ was wrapped around her when she wore his things. God, he was a possessive fool. A happy, possessive fool. Yep, love made you happy, that was for damn sure. And Bones didn't know it, but she was going to stay with him. All night. He'd been fine with hot and fast until now, because he'd wanted her so bad. But it was Saturday night, and now he wanted to explore her, wanted to take his time and show her just how romantic he could be. Wanted to wake up next to her tomorrow morning and make slow, lazy love to her. The click of her heels alerted him to her return, and he frowned at the sound. "What's the matter, couldn't you find –" His mouth hung open when he saw her, and his pulse raged in his ears. She had changed, after all.

She stood in the center of the living room, completely naked, long limbs glimmering in the low light from the table lamp. She slowly paced toward him and he was reminded of a cat. A sinuous pale-eyed mountain lion eyeing up her supper. He couldn't stop looking; couldn't keep his eyes off her, all long legs and white skin and gorgeous breasts. _Jesus God_. She was still wearing the shoes. The brief memory of the lingerie-clad Bones he'd fantasized about tried to surface, but didn't stand a chance against the reality. As usual, Bones was doing it her way.

"I found exactly what I need, Booth. As a matter of fact, I'm looking at it." A purely feline smile graced her sharp, hungry features as she stalked him.

Her measured, deliberate strides played up the roll of her sinfully beautiful hips and brought her ever closer. He didn't remember backing up but somehow he found himself in the V of the counter with her in front of him. With her heels on she was still of a height with him. Somehow, the fact that their eyes lined up, that their mouths lined up left him feeling as if he was at a distinct disadvantage. Gripping the counter on either side of him, she locked her elbows and levered her upper body forward. Countless times he'd seen that cerulean stare leveled at unfortunate squints and watched them squirm. Damned if he didn't feel like squirming himself. But most likely for a different reason than those lowly interns. He suddenly felt like there were two different people inside him vying for supremacy. One wanting to wrestle her to the floor and take her like a maniac and the other ready to raise his hands and surrender.

"I noticed the way you looked at me when you saw these shoes, and I found that I wanted to continue the experience. From a feminist standpoint, I don't necessarily approve of the sexual stereotype I'm portraying." A small frown came and went, almost unnoticeable. "However, I am, on occasion, willing to engage in role-play in order to enhance the sexual experience." She leaned another inch closer. "And it would be hypocritical to deny how I feel, watching you watch me."

Desperate to fight the urgent needs seeping through the rapidly-widening cracks, determined to maintain some measure of control, he casually held his water between them. It was a pitiful barrier, but it was all he had at this point. And it wasn't going to do him any good. Her lashes lowered, and she looked down at the glass and just as knowingly back up at him. "That's not going to stop me, Booth." She wrapped her hand around his, on the glass, and moved it aside. "That's only going to get me wet, and the truth is," she purred, "I'm already wet."

At her words, his system jolted to red-alert instantly, the situation only worsened when she made quick, rough work of his shirt and tie. The yank and friction of his belt being removed snapped him back to his senses, and he stopped her before she could do more than unbutton his trousers. "Not here."

Much like the cat she'd reminded him of earlier, she remained almost motionless, the quiet tilt of her head her only gesture. "Why not? I do some of my best work in the kitchen."

Jesus, she was trying to kill him. He couldn't let this happen. He wanted more, _needed_ more. "I want you in the bed." Quick as a flash, he reached out to her and jerked her to him. "Now." The sensation of skin on skin was so heady, he knew if they didn't move now, he'd forget his resolve and take her where they stood. Clamping down on his desire, he laced his fingers with hers. "Come with me." At first she resisted him, but after a moment she consented to be drawn along to the bedroom. They stopped next to the bed, and he knew he had to move fast or she'd eat him alive. Before she could discern his intent, he dropped quietly to one knee, his capable fingers circling her fine ankles while easily removing her stilettos. "You don't need these."

Her smile was knowing, and more than a little smug. "Am I making you uncomfortable, Booth?"

Standing up, he leaned in behind her, lifting her silky hair and pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. "The shoes are great. But they're just wrapping. Everyone knows," he breathed into her ear, "that what you really want is the present inside. Lay down on the bed."

Her smile quickly vanishing at his words, she tried to turn to him, but his hands were suddenly quite warm and very firm on her hips, and she was unable to twist into his arms as she wanted. Her frustration with him quickly colored her voice. "You don't always get to be the one who decides, Booth…" She would have continued in the same vein, but his chuckled response vibrated against her back and teased the skin on her arms into goose flesh.

"Neither do you. Sometimes I just know better." Pushing even closer against her, he continued before she could fight with him. "There's more than one speed, Dr. Brennan. Now, lay down."

His use of her words to him from that first night made her stomach clench reflexively. She shivered and leaned back against him, unable to fight the hypnotic lure of his words. At the prompting nudge of his hips she at last stepped to the bed and gracefully dropped onto the mattress, stretching languorously, wantonly under his watchful eyes. Her confident mien faded when he only smiled and shook his head, and her brow creased in confusion.

"Unh-uh. Roll over."

"Booth." Unfamiliar with whatever game he was playing, she stared challengingly at him, her jaw tightened obstinately. When he remained silent, she pressed him further. "Why?"

"Humor me, Bones. Please." His tone was unendingly patient as he braced one strong arm on the bed and leaned over her, mere inches from her face. With his free hand he moved one long finger in a rotating motion. "On. Your. Stomach."

She wanted to argue, but she took one look at his face and her argument dried up before it left her lips. They'd been intimate many times since entering into the bet, but she'd never seen him look like this. Wordlessly she rolled, tucking her arms under the pillow. From her prone position she could tell that he was standing again, but without craning her neck she could only see his hand. The soft brush of fabric against flesh was the only indication that he'd removed the rest of his clothes. She fought the urge to fidget, to twist around and demand to know what he was doing. Standing, hovering over her. Watching her. Her muscles twitched and danced as if his stare was a tangible thing. Finally she felt the mattress dip under his weight, and exhaled with satisfaction and relief. Now things would be normal again. Most likely even more interesting, as he clearly intended to try a new position. She wouldn't have expected it of him, but he was always surprising her. Her smile was interrupted when her lips parted on a gasp at the feel of his knuckles trailing along her spine. Gently down past her shoulder blades and on to the small of her back.

"You have the most beautiful back. So slender, so smooth and graceful, but so strong." His thumbs glided to the sharp narrowing of her waist, to the lovely flare of her hips. Not pushing, but smoothing a leisurely path from spot to favorite spot. "I remember the first time I saw your back naked. It was gorgeous." Slowly, he drew his fingertips up her sides, drinking in her fascinating responses. Responses not heard as much as felt. "You're ridiculously fit, and that's part of the beauty. But in the end it all comes down to bones, doesn't it? It comes down to bones, and Bones."

She wanted to move, wanted to twist and pull him to her, take him into her. But she was trapped in the seductive tangle of his voice and his touch, and was only able to take what he would give her. One lazy finger traveled along the subtle ridges of her spine, leaving her trembling, the pillow fisted tightly in her hands as she struggled for control. His words fell on her skin, soft as the gentle drizzle that had just begun to fall outside the bedroom window.

"You know, when I first met you, calling you Bones was just a subtle way to annoy you, to even the playing field. Now, Bones means you. Just you. It's not an insult anymore. It's your eyes, your hair, your skin. The way you frown." Caught in his own snare, he marveled at the paleness of her skin, the softness of it. The small birthmark he almost missed, it was so faint. The quivering response of her flesh to his seeking fingers. "It's how fierce you were on the course." Unable to stop himself, he leaned over and pressed a soothing kiss to a newly-formed bruise on her shoulder. "You were a warrior out on the course today. You surprised everyone that was there. Everyone but me. I already knew what you could do."

He was slowly driving her insane. She'd never felt like this before, as if she was tied down with invisible rope. She was beyond thinking, trapped by her own body's reactions. She had never been more aware of his power than now, when he withheld it. The raw destructive capabilities of his body were held in check; reined in ruthlessly. The feel of his fingertips along her skin was like the glancing touch of a feather, but it was wreaking havoc on her body, and she struggled against it. Struggled against the part of her that was yearning to give in. Give in to him, and to herself. To what was between them. In an attempt to regain some of the power, she managed a breathless response. "Why don't you lay down with me, Booth, and I'll show you what I can do..."

His large palm on the small of her back continued to hold her in place. She was trying to take control of what was happening to them, like she had several times since they'd been together. He knew it was the intimacy that was making her nervous. But they had a long way to go yet, and he had plenty still to give to her. Bending close again, he dragged his teeth lightly along the delicate curve of her ribs. He smiled as she jolted, gasping. _Ah_..._there_. He did it again and won a broken moan from her before she went limp against his hand. "Slow down, Bones. We have all the time we want. And I'm not done playing yet. Don't you want to play with me?"

"What...Booth..." In all of her life, she'd never felt as wanted as she did right now. Did he want her that much? Could anyone want _this much_? "Booth!" Blindly she writhed at his touch, not knowing if she wanted to pull away or press closer but sure, as sure as she'd ever been of anything in her life that this was nothing that she'd ever felt before.

Her body melted under his caresses like liquid, and she shuddered uncontrollably as he pulled reaction after reaction from her. Even while he seduced her, her acceptance of this moment between them was seducing him. Watching her gradually relax and surrender to the intimacy was the most rewarding experience he'd ever had. The abandonment of her fear because of her trust in him was a precious gift. One he didn't intend to refuse. Skimming his fingers along the sides of her breasts drove a whimper from her, and he knew it was nearly time. A quick flick of his hands flipped her onto her back, and what he saw then made his heart leap.

Her eyes were the color of the sky at sunset, huge and desperate and hazed with tears as she struggled to focus on him. Sobbing gasps wracked her body, and she clutched at his body, her slender hands pressing against him, pulling at him, touching him all over as if she'd never touched him ever before. "Shh, easy..." He dipped to her, kissing her soothingly, worshipping every minute detail of her lips and forehead and cheeks, rubbing his lips through the dampness on her lashes and at her temples. "It's alright, shh..."

She couldn't hold still, couldn't stay in place. The pads of his thumbs grazed across her nipples with a gossamer-light stroke. Something had to move, to shift, or she wouldn't be able to bear it anymore. She rolled her head from side to side, her body rising and falling, her breath heaving recklessly, and then bowed off the bed with a mute wail as the climax seared her body like a burst of ball lightning. Her almost-painful release went on and on, building and burning and spreading inside her until her vision dimmed and her lips began to tingle with numbness. Slowly, so slowly, the haze began to clear, and finally she could see him again. Only him. He was everywhere, seeing her. Knowing her.

She was looking up at him, her eyes wide and lost and searching. Her uninhibited answer to all he'd asked of her had nearly finished him. He was so moved by her openness that for a moment he could do nothing but watch her with amazement and love. "Temperance." His voice was unsteady and his throat tight at what he'd just witnessed. He couldn't have received anything greater from her. She was more exposed and vulnerable now than she'd ever been, and yet she was still here. Thank God she was still here. Tenderly he cupped her cheek in his palm and shifted closer.

Even as she visibly spun down from the high she'd been on, he hovered over her and touched her face with a hand that was shaking even as she was shaking. His lips found hers, and while they kissed he gently parted her legs and pressed deep inside her, sliding easily into her silky softness. Her choked gasp met his desperate moan, and he froze, struggling to gain a shred of control. She was still watching him, still quivering under his hands. "Temperance." He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging her head back so she stretched and met him more completely. Everything he'd ever hoped for with her, everything he'd ever wanted and dreamed of getting from her. All those hopes and dreams and wishes fell by the wayside, toppled by the awesome _reality_ of her. Moments stretched by while they remained motionless, trapped within each other's bodies, breath tangling, lips touching. Finally his mouth quirked against hers, his head tipped forward and he nuzzled her neck. "This," he rasped in her ear, "is _ours_."

_Yes. This is ours._ She stared in a dizzy stupor at the ceiling as he moved inside her, his warm lips whispering in her ear. "Sweet," he murmured. "So sweet." A deep, rasping rumble sounded in his chest when she whimpered and tightened her arms and legs around him, pulling him closer and deeper to her. The sensation of him stroking into her made her blood simmer all over again. Every nerve ending was firing, every inch of skin claimed by his lips or his hands or his body part of a maelstrom of sensation. She swept her own hands down his slick back, thrilling to the feel of his rugged musculature bunching, braced against her, flexing into her. Hers. The feeling grew, despite her efforts. She fought it, tried to ignore it, but it soared up and swamped her. _Mine...mine._

He began moving faster, and she surged up to meet him, short, rasping cries bursting from her lips every time he thrust into her. His handsome face tightened into a grimace of pleasure that matched hers, and his arms clutched at her convulsively until they moved as one. Each taking huge, gasping breaths, each intent on drowning the other in sensation, and both praying to hold on long enough. Just long enough. On a long, trembling sigh she locked up in spasm after spasm, her body tightening to an almost impossible degree, her limbs caging him and ripping his groaning release from him in a warm, drenching burst.

Spent, his reserves depleted from the long day and intense lovemaking, he sagged, pinning her to the mattress and pressing a warm, tired kiss to her shoulder. Nothing. Absolutely nothing could be better than this moment right here. Mindful of his larger size, after a moment he rolled, pulling her with him and settling her more comfortably next to him. He could feel her beginning to stir, and he stroked a wide palm down her back, over and over, waiting to see what she would do next. To his surprise, she nestled against his side, her slim, damp body folded tightly to him. The breath he was scarcely aware of holding was quietly released when he realized that she had settled and was no longer moving, and his face relaxed into a beautiful, easy smile.

She passed from satiation to sleep in a matter of minutes. She was clearly exhausted. It was most likely one of the longest and most arduous days she'd been through in a while, and that was saying something. Hell, _he_ was exhausted and he'd done the course before. Exhaustion was good. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. If she was awake, she'd be prying herself away from him and shimmying quickly back into her clothes. It was better this way. So much better. No worrying about her going home alone – hell, why lie to himself - no furtive trips to her place after she'd left to make sure she got home okay. No wakeful nights with memories pressing on him like her body had been only moments before. No empty arms and empty bed. No empty, aching heart. She sighed in her sleep and turned more fully into him, and he wrapped his arms more securely around her, relishing the stolen moments. If she actually did wake up and wanted to leave, he wasn't at all sure that he could let her go. His eyes began to droop, and he gladly forfeited his hold on wakefulness, one last thought surfacing as he sank like a stone.

He wasn't sure he could ever let her go.

**Okay - I apologize for any typos or other wacky stuff - It's late, and I'm tired! So please ignore any small boo-boos, and please point out any huge problems. I trust you guys! And thanks so much for hanging in there with me - I'm thrilled to all get out that you guys are still reading and reviewing my work. Thanks again!  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**THE BET**

**Sixty hour work week? Check. Season finale trauma-induced writers block? Check. Particularly nasty stomach virus? Check. Well, then, this MUST be my life...Oy, the stories I could tell you, you wouldn't believe it. So I'm not going to burden you with them. Finally, at LONG last, the next chapter is ready! I guess being bedridden is good for SOMETHING, anyway...Really hope you enjoy it! A special thank you to my best bud, Gryphin, for singing the Writers Block Blues with me. The harmony was never so sweet, my friend.  
**

Gusty breezes pushed the droning sound of the steady downpour through the window. The fresh smell of sodden earth travelled down from the park and permeated the room. Unseen cars sluicing down the flooded streets mixed with the rapid slap of feet as people ran from bus to home and home to work, the early pulse of city life not stopping even on Sunday. Curtain-like fists of rain lashed the building and bounced onto the screen, dampening the discarded clothes folded carefully on the bureau at the side of the bed.

Bottle of water in hand, he padded silently back into the bedroom and stopped, arrested by the sight before him. She was on her stomach, head partially burrowed under the pillow, legs motionless, knotted in the crumpled sheets. Her hair whirled in several different directions, the follicular chaos somehow only adding to her beauty. He moved closer, drawn to her side of the bed by the same urge that had always driven him to look at her, studying her closely during their workday. Dark lashes at rest on pale cheeks. Small, soft smile on rosy lips. All that exposed skin, so soft and smooth and real. He simply stood, his tall, powerful, frame still, ignoring the chill that spread on his bare skin as he stared down at her recumbent form. She seemed more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. Maybe it was the soft lighting from the hall, or maybe she really was as content as she looked. Or maybe he was just a wishful ass who was projecting his needs on her. There would never be enough time to look his fill. Never. No matter how much time he got. Looking at her calmed something in him, laid to rest the worry and conflict that so often churned inside him. When she sighed and shivered, his eyes shot quickly to the alarm clock. Five-thirty. The only thing better than staring at Bones was touching Bones, and he was wasting valuable time. With a quiet yawn he skirted the bed, setting the bottle on the nightstand and shucking his boxers. A quick, cold moment later he was next to her, curving his muscular frame to hers and drawing the comforter over their chilled bodies.

*****

Slowly she worked her way through the thick layers of sleep. Mind blank; eyes tightly shut. Little by little sensations registered, each bit of information another piece in a sleepy puzzle. She tried to move her arm and realized finally it was numb, her shoulder mashed tight against someone else's arm. A long, sinewy arm. Another arm was slung loosely over her waist. As she took a deep breath her body pressed tightly against the broad chest and narrow hips snuggled warmly behind her. She was completely enfolded in _male_, surrounded on all sides. Hot, moist air brushed across her cheek, tickling and teasing her skin. At last she opened her eyes, her brain waking her completely. Fascinated, she stared intently at her hands.

His wide, flat palms were wrapped around hers, lax and yet still undeniably protective. Very much like his body curled around hers. All his hardness, his impressive toughness temporarily soft and malleable. Her interest piqued, she spent an endless amount of time studying them, scrutinizing the strange elegance, the lovely lines. The sensitive arches and pads, the graceful but strong wrists. The unusually soft skin, for someone who was rough on his hands. His deft, capable hands. She remembered what those hands had done to her only hours before and couldn't quite hold back a responsive shudder.

Quietly, gently, afraid to wake him but unable to resist temptation, she examined them. Her scholar's brain catalogued each bone and segment even as a part of her simply _looked_. Distal phalanges, middle phalanges, proximal phalanges. Metacarpals, hamate, pisiform, triquetrum. Her fingers brushed lightly against each fold, each crease and callus and scar. Capitate, lunate, trapezium. Hands that she'd touched. Hands that had touched her. Trapezoid, Scaphoid.

The gentle transit of her fingers and eyes was abruptly halted when those very hands curved and closed over hers. The muscular bicep pinned beneath her bunched, and his leg pushed lazily between her knees. With a flare of unease at being caught off-guard, she pulled toward the side of the bed. He merely tightened his grip, sliding one hand to her hip in an indolent, intimate caress.

"Mmm, morning."

A stronger puff of air blew against her skin as he spoke, making her shiver yet again. Her arm began to send out signals as it woke with him, prickles swarming and teeming from end to end. "What time is it?" she murmured, a matching prickle of anxiety scratching the back of her throat. Maybe she hadn't been asleep for that long. But she knew she had; the low light in the room was due to the heavy, cloud-covered morning and not the meager illumination from the hallway.

"Don' care, s'early, g'back to sleep..."

"I have to go. I didn't mean to fall asleep." Again she shifted; again his grip tightened and he pulled her firmly back against him. "Booth..."

His chest vibrated against her back as he mumbled again. "Mm-mm. Don'tcha wanna stay?"

Warm lips nuzzled her neck, raising both goose flesh and her heart rate as any nervousness washed away on a flood of arousal. He had an entirely too clever mouth. It had been her downfall many times recently, and she found herself succumbing yet again. Weakly, she fought against it, and against her own desire. "No....I have some things..."

The deft, capable hands she'd admired only moments ago began to rub soothing circles on her body. Round and round, back and forth. Up and down. Even as a hot flush warmed its insidious way through her body, she felt him harden against her. Arms, legs, chest. Every part of him. A deplorable double-hitch in her breathing betrayed her reaction to him, and was followed by another bout of desperate weakness, much the same as what she'd encountered under his hands last night. "Booth...Booth, stop it. I really...I have some very...lab...ohhh..." Her protests melted into one lone groan as he slipped the arm that had been beneath her further down her body, his fingers stealing boldly between her thighs, sliding and rubbing, stimulating and caressing until she felt as if she was dissolving. "Oh god, Booth..." Her hips jerked back hard against him, once, twice, three times. "Oh please..."

"C'mon, Bones," he muttered in her ear, his body eagerly riding the wanton writhing of her hips, "don't you want to stay?" An urgent keening moan was her only answer, and he rolled closer, pressing her deeper into the mattress and stroking her even more urgently. Her thighs parted yet further, and he took advantage of the opportunity to sink two fingers inside her, greedily wringing a choked whine from her. "Stay." He was so goddamn hard at the feel of her, the sound of her, he wasn't sure he'd last long enough to get his fill. "God, you're so fucking hot I can't stand it..." Champing at the bit to be inside her, he leaned harder, pushing her further forward onto her hip and covering her completely.

"Hurry, god, hurry..." She couldn't reach him, she wanted to touch him but he was in back of her, on top of her, crowding her, touching her. Controlling her. And she loved it. She felt everything, heard everything, experienced everything that he was, and lost all control in the process. When he finally came to her, sliding thickly in from behind, her loud groan of relief matched his. "Shit, shit...oh..." With each slow surge of his hips her nipples dragged against the sheets, setting off sensory explosions in her womb. He was grinding her into the mattress, his muscular weight bearing down on her even as his arms held her securely to him, his fingers quickly finding and teasing her again.

He sank deeper on a forceful thrust, grunting in lustful satisfaction when she spread her legs wider for him. "You feel so fucking good, you're driving me crazy..." Driven to a faster pace by her quivering, whimpering responses, he set up a smooth rhythm, at once fast and unhurried. Returning to her over and over again was his driving desire, a nexus he was only too happy to seize. With a surge of greed he brought his hand to her face, needing to feel her lips, and was amply rewarded when she trapped his finger with her tongue, drawing it into the warm recesses of her mouth.

The sounds of their lovemaking rose and fell, melding with the muted din from the street and competing with it. Instead of intruding on their privacy, the city sounds seemed only to heighten the intimacy between them. The rain, the gloom, his weight insistent upon her, all combined in a dark erotic uproar in her mind. Mindlessly she bit down hard on his knuckle, groaning brokenly as her orgasm cleaved through her. She was dimly aware of his answering growl at her ear, and could only lay open to him, clutching the sheets as he battered himself into her. Before she realized it, her body caught up to his and she was bucking and plunging under him again, swept along toward another dizzying crescendo by his fingers and hips and clever, clever mouth. Heart thumping, eyes blurring, breath wheezing, she peaked once again. She sagged under the crush of her release while he jerked into her. His shout of fulfillment as he convulsed around and inside her wrung one last answering spasm from her body, and then they lay still, chests heaving, legs tangled. His head dropped to the nape of her neck and he closed his arms around her waist, keeping her near as they panted, listening to the rain.

*****

Some time later he weakly raised his head and brushed a kiss on her damp shoulder. His first attempt to speak brought forth nothing but a dry rasp, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Good morning."

"Mmph..." Forcing her eyes open, she blinked away the exhaustion and the sleepiness that had quickly been returning to her and swallowed hard. "Morning." A slow stretch of her body confirmed that all her limbs still worked, despite her initial fears. "What –" She stopped short, remembering what had happened earlier when she had asked the time. Instead, she hooked a heel on the edge of the bed and this time he let her go, flopping limply onto his back and watching her slender back as she reached out for her clothes. Her shoulders slumped upon the first feel of her dress. It was thoroughly damp and would be quite uncomfortable to wear.

"Go ahead, grab what you want, sweats, whatever. You know where it all is," he offered, easily anticipating her request. Go take a shower and I'll whip us up something to eat."

She clutched at the dress reflexively and fought the sudden urge to take a step in retreat. "That's not necessary, I can shower at home. I really should get going. I have a lot of work to do." It wasn't a lie. She always had large piles of bones and papers to sift through, all organized and awaiting completion in her home office. At last count, twenty-seven sets of bones, to be exact. Plus, there was her not-so-small matter of her book. At this rate, it would never be finished.

"No point in going home all grubby." With a tired groan he heaved himself up and snatched his shorts from the floor. Yanking them on, he rounded the bed to her. "You grab a shower and I'll bring you home."

"You're grubby too. Don't you need to shower?"

"Nah. I'm a guy. People expect me to be grubby. You go ahead and shower, I'll get one later. I'll make us some breakfast while you're in there."

Apprehension began flooding her system again at his casual words. Casual words for a casual, intimate morning. "That's not necessary, Booth, really. If you would just call for a cab..." Nervously her fingers tightened on the sweatpants she was tugging out of the pile, but with a sense of annoyance at her silliness she forced them to relax.

"It's no problem." Reaching in the drawer, he sifted around through the offerings. Moose and squirrel or Flyers...deciding, he pulled out moose and squirrel and shrugged it over his head. "It's just fruit and cereal, Bones. And I'll bring you home, no need for a taxi."

Carefully controlling her annoyance, she hissed out a sigh. "There's no point in you taking me all the way home. It doesn't make any sense."

His grin flashed bright in the dim room. "Yeah it does. I'll keep you drier. The cabbie won't pull up onto the sidewalk and I will."

She fought unsuccessfully against the smile tugging at her lips at the image, knowing he'd do it. He'd done it before, when they returned from their first date. She impatiently ordered herself to stay focused. "It'll be better if I use a cab. I need to finish a massive amount of paperwork for the institute, and I simply have to work on my book today. I really can't have any distractions at the apartment."

"And you won't – I'm just dropping you off. I'm actually heading into the office, myself."

Sweatshirt in hand, she abruptly stopped, the next argument nearly out of her mouth when what he'd said registered. "What?"

Keeping his face carefully blank at her reaction, he continued. "Got a call yesterday from Rick – the paperwork is in on that exhumation for the Strickland case. Gonna go there straight after Mass." He hadn't needed to look at her to know he'd surprised her but he'd looked anyway, since looking at her was his favorite pastime. One of them, anyway. The expression of sheer bafflement on her face made him certain that she hadn't expected it.

She tried to hide the hard knock of relief, busily bending down to pull socks out of his bottom drawer. "Oh. I suppose that will be fine, then, if you think you'll have enough time."

"Sure, no problem. Just gonna drop you off and then head back here to get ready. So, bananas and corn flakes good for you?" Unable to resist teasing her, he smiled widely and stepped close again, leaning over her and dropping his hands lightly onto her hips. "Unless you'd rather just skip the breakfast part and have some company in the shower..." He dropped a soft, persuasive kiss on her lips, adding just enough heat until she gripped at his waist, and then indulged himself with a brief snuggle, burying his nose in her soft hair for an all-too-enjoyable moment. Pulling back, he noted with happiness the soft, almost warm light surfacing in her eyes and finally relented. "I'm sorry, I'll be good." In a sudden change of mood he nudged her toward the bathroom, smacking her matter-of-factly on the backside. "Alright then, get a move on, shower up and we'll eat."

At a loss to decipher his unusually amenable behavior, she took a few steps before turning back to him wonderingly. "I'll be out in a few minutes. Thank you, Booth." When he only smiled at her, she shook her head in confusion and entered the bathroom.

As soon as the door thumped shut, he backed up until his legs hit the bed and fell over backward with a heavy whoosh. Dazed, staring blindly at the ceiling, he rubbed his hand in lazy circles across his chest. God, she was a teeming mass of contradictions. Soft and hard, confident and nervous, fun and prickly. Obstinate. Vulnerable. Soft-hearted. Brilliant. Clueless. Lost. Driven. And he loved every single damned one of them. She was punctual, too. Knowing she was as good as her word and would be out in under ten, he dragged himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen. It was a good thing he'd laid in some rations Bones would deign to eat, just in case. _Cereal and fruit, blech._ Ah well, it'd hold him, at least until he dropped her off at home. He'd stop at Dos Gringos on the way back; get himself one of their kick-ass breakfast sandwiches. Maybe some of the cilantro-scrambled eggs, too. He really needed to drag her there soon. They'd had a bunch of vegan and vegetarian items on the menu the last time he'd checked. That scrambled soy and sun-dried tomato thingy sounded like it was right up Bones' alley. _Bones Alley, hah. Wonder if I can move there? I hear it's got a helluva view. _Laughing at himself, dreaming of carbs and dairy products and laser-blue eyes, he snagged bowls and spoons, milk and cereal and began pulling everything together for breakfast.

Biting off a sharp curse when the shampoo worked its way into her eyes, she took a moment to rinse her face before continuing to lather her hair. She was distracted. He was distracting her. Which was exactly why she need her space. Exactly why she needed to go home. She'd thought for sure that when she told him she was going home to work that he would argue with her, would want to spend the day with her. But except for the discussion about breakfast and the taxi, he'd been...agreeable. Accommodating, even. She hadn't expected that. But why? Past experience evidenced that he was a particularly stubborn, determined man. He was also trying to win their bet. So why give up so easily? Maybe he'd seen that she was serious about going home, and wouldn't be swayed. She smiled, sure that was the reason. She just had to keep insisting that she didn't need romance for another six weeks, and she'd have won the bet. And satisfied the desire for him that never quite seemed to go away. Comfortable with her thought process, she continued scrubbing vigorously. "Damn it!" And rinsed her eyes under the spray again.

*****

True to his word, he parked on the curb, shimmying the truck up to within a foot of the entryway overhang. Water blanketed the windows, blocking out all details of the people scurrying in and out of the building, making them appear as colorful blobs on the run. Booth switched off the engine and turned to her, a wicked glint in his eye.

"Booth, stop right there." She knew that look, had been on the receiving end of it many times. It was just as dangerous as his mouth. "We're in a public place – you need to control yourself."

"I just want a kiss goodbye, Bones. Just one little kiss. Is that so much to ask?"

"I've experienced your 'little' kisses, Booth, and they're not actually little. Behave yourself."

"This, from you?" Amused, he _tsked_ disapprovingly. "And _you_ were the one who said _I_ was embarrassed by the sex stuff. Really, Bones..."

"What – I'm _not_!" she protested heatedly. "It's just that I've realized lately that you have no self-control over your baser needs."

Undaunted, he angled slowly over the center console, deliberately invading her space. "What? You mean baser, as in first base?" With his hands braced on either side of her he levered closer, looking her straight in the eye. "Second base?" When she remained stubbornly silent, he leaned in the last inch and lost himself in her pale, pale eyes. "Third base?" In a leisurely fashion he laid his lips on hers, nibbling and licking at her mouth until she returned the embrace, her small hand stealing to the nape of his neck. Only then did he deepen the kiss, drawing her in until her lids slid shut and her lips parted on a trembling sigh. He slid his hand to her hip, sliding his palm under the t-shirt she'd borrowed so he could feel her soft skin, measure her quickened breathing. His thumb gently brushed the satiny-soft underside of her breast before grazing lightly over her pebbled nipple. He began a lazy circuit, testing and teasing her with his thumb, his palm resting intimately against her. When she shuddered, he allowed his mouth to drift down to her jaw so he could nip and lap at her to his heart's content. The delicate fragrance just _there_, and the way her throat worked when he scraped his teeth against it. Her helpless shiver finally brought him back to reality, and he pulled back, his heated study taking in her flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. "Baser needs, Bones?" he muttered thickly. "_Basic_ needs, maybe. You make it hard for me to step back sometimes."

Light-headed, her heart throbbing and her breath unsteady, she stared dumbly at him. Gradually her senses began to level and she pulled the bag he'd loaned her from the floor with trembling fingers. "I don't know what that means."

"Don't you?" Suddenly afraid he'd revealed too much too soon, he pulled back emotionally as well and forced a lighter tone. "Well, I'm still pretty tired this morning. I'm not sure _I_ know what I mean." He knew his grin was half-hearted, but he saw her relax fractionally, and sighed in quiet relief. That had been almost too intense for him, too. Patting her knee in a brotherly fashion, he tried again. "Look, we'll talk tomorrow, okay? You'll be pretty busy today, and I need to find out what's going on with this case. We're most likely going to wind up heading out to Warm Springs toward the end of the week. Wanna hit the diner tomorrow for lunch, discuss details?"

She cleared her throat and fought to speak calmly. "Actually, Booth, if we'll be travelling out of town for this case, I won't have time for lunch this week. I need to get as much work done as possible before we go, so Zach isn't overwhelmed with tasks that are beyond his training level."

"That's okay. Truth is I probably won't have much time during the day, either. Got a shitload of paperwork on this file, and need to do some last phone interviews and such before the trip. Gotta move my court cases around, too. If you want to hit Ella's on F Street for pizza maybe tomorrow night or Tuesday, we can make our plans." But he knew the minute he said it that it wasn't going to happen. The minute he spoke he could see her brain working, coming up with a valid excuse to forestall him.

"I don't know. I'll probably be working late most nights – I have to submit the next chapter of the new book to my editor before we leave. Perhaps it would be best if you emailed the particulars to me? That way you're sure to reach me."

He wasn't reaching her now. She was already as good as out of the truck, already hiding in her apartment. And he was an idiot. Hadn't he just told himself an hour ago that he needed to give her some time? Yet here he was pushing her for more like all those other assholes she'd dated. He needed to calm down and throw her some space. "Sure, no problem. I'll shoot you the deets, either tonight or tomorrow." He watched her open the door and was surprised when she turned quickly back to him. She hesitated for a moment, the struggle plain on her face, and then seemed to come to a decision.

"Booth, thank you."

Confused, he looked askance at her. "You already thanked me, Bones. I told you, it was no trouble bringing you home."

"No." She smiled at him then, a cautious, slightly-nervous, yet entirely appealing little quirk of the lips. "Thank you for yesterday – and last night. I had a wonderful time."

It was the easiest thing in the world, then, to smile back at her. "You're welcome, Bones. I had a great time, too." When she remained, staring at him, he made a small move with his hand toward the door. "You're getting wet."

"Oh." Startled at her behavior, she threw him another shy smile and bolted out of the truck, flipping the door shut in her wake.

Heedless of the truck's interior, he lowered the window, watching her carefully shuffle into the building. He grinned and laughed, enjoying the sight. Even tightly laced, his sneakers were much too big for her. Finally she was gone from sight, and he closed the window, leaning back in the seat to stare absently at the windshield.

She needed more time. He knew that. He just had to find the patience to give it to her. He didn't want to force her into anything that would make her uncomfortable. He just wanted to show her how it could be between them, how good it could be. What he hadn't thought about was the fact that now _he _knew how good it could be. His deep, contented sigh filled the cab. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teenager. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd felt like this when he _was_ a teenager. It was pretty damned awesome, though.

Revitalized, he started the truck and checked his watch. He'd have to hurry if he was going to make Mass – and he had to make sure he hit up the confessional. Thinking carefully, he decided it was worth it. So what if he didn't actually _have_ to go to the office today? Nothing could be done with the case on a Sunday, but she didn't know that. He'd go in for a couple of hours anyway, get some overdue paperwork out of the way. Some self-imposed penance, to go with whatever Father Froelich threw at him for lying. Among everything else he'd done. He sighed again. What was that saying, about the best of intentions? Whoever came up with that was _definitely_ Catholic. Grinning, he blew the horn and wormed his way back into traffic.

**And there you go. Where they'll stop, nobody knows. I have to say, the first part of this chapter was inspired by my deep and intense longing for my own rainy-day Booth. Just like angry Booth and shower Booth. Buy one in every style! Hah. Sorry, must be the virus. Anyway, as I said, I really hope you liked this, and if you want to reach out to me, you know what to do! Thanks so much for reading, and for your patience.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Whoo boy! Another late one for me. Everyone should thank Starbucks for these last few chapters, because if it wasn't for their coffee, I'd never have finished them. Mmm, caffeine. Also, thank you to all of you who have so faithfully read and reviewed this story - your lovely words are better than caffeine, and that's saying something, for me! As always, I hope you enjoy this, and please forgive me for any typos or sleep-deprived oddities...**

**THE BET  
**

"Goddamnit! The internet's down again!" Hurling a snarl toward the door and anyone within hearing, Booth sprang out of his chair and stalked out into the bullpen, glaring around as if he expected to find some poor foolish soul with a pair of scissors and a cut wire. But all heads had quickly dropped at his shout, and his team as a whole appeared to be extremely industrious. It was just their bad luck that he'd worked in his own bullpen before the last promotion. "Don't even bother trying to look busy, because I know you're not. Bruce! You've been flapping your yap all afternoon about the diner running out of your favorite dessert. Get over here."

"Yeah, Booth?" Detaching himself from his desk and a hastily aborted game of solitaire, Bruce answered the barked summons and bopped blithely over to him. "What's up?"

"Get off your ass and go up to Tech Support. I want someone down here in _ten minutes_ to fix whatever the hell's wrong with this piece of crap system."

Doing his best to placate him and avoid a reaming, Bruce grinned and saluted. "Sure thing, Booth. I'll call 'em right now –"

"No, Bruce. Don't _call_ them, _go up there, _physically. I want you to bring someone down here – drag them if you have to. This is a government agency, and if they can't keep the fucking computers operational then the wrong people are working up there." Leaning close, he narrowed his eyes. "No stops along the way, Bruce. _Ten minutes_." Satisfied when Bruce's smile faltered and faded, he relaxed fractionally, raising a single threatening brow. "Look sharp..." Scowling, he shouted after Bruce's rapidly retreating form. "If they don't come down, _I_ will be the next one up there!"

The chorus of chuckles behind him immediately ceased as he swung around and paced back to his office. At the rate he was going, by the time he and Bones left tonight he'd have to get out of town anyway to avoid murder charges. Without a thought for any collateral damage, he caught up his autographed baseball and heaved it at the wall. The muffled thud only made him feel marginally better, and he dropped back into his chair, pulling angrily at his hair. His day couldn't have gone worse. Hell, his week had been a total disaster so far. A case lost in appeal because DCPD dropped the ball on chain of custody. A dent in the Tahoe when it came back from the motor pool. Phones that wouldn't shut up and internet service hiccuping like a New York drunk. Sighing, he dragged his hands wearily over his face. He might as well be honest with himself and face facts. Any other week he could have dealt with shit like this. It was like this all the time. But he hadn't seen Bones in three days, and he felt like someone had lopped an extra inch off his admittedly short fuse. A quick cup of coffee, a rushed lunch or short stop at the lab, and he'd have been set up for the rest of the week. But he knew she needed some time, and so he browbeat himself into staying away. It was just too bad that the poor schlubs out there had to suffer because of it. _Yeah, well, life sucks all around. They'll just have to cowboy up and deal with it._

Wishing desperately for the day to be over, he tried to open the inter-agency database again. Nothing. Grimly, he eyed the acre of paperwork edging furtively toward the edge of his desk. How the hell was he supposed to finish all that shit before he left if he couldn't access any of the data? His phone picked that moment to start yelping again, and he only barely checked the overwhelming urge to chuck it through the window. He just wasn't going to answer it. It was bad enough that he was doing all the paperwork for the cases because he was trying to leave Bones alone. If he had to talk to one more moldy bureaucrat he'd wind up saying something that would have him working out in the pen again. Checking his watch, he flopped back in the chair and closed his eyes. Five minutes. Five more minutes and he was going up there, and someone's ass was gonna be grass. Luckily, he'd already sent Bones the email with their time schedule before the system crapped out. As skittish as she'd been the other day, he didn't want to call her unless it was unavoidable. And if he'd had to send over a messenger he'd just have looked like an ass. Which he was anyway for sitting here and mooning over her like a fool. _Okay, that's it._ Desperate to find something non-computer to do until the temperamental system started working again, he shuffled his paperwork around on his desk until he caught sight of the wall clock. _Fifteen minutes. Perfect._ A feral grin darkened his face, and roughly he shoved his chair back, starting briskly for the elevators. This was exactly the distraction he needed. There was nothing like handing someone their ass to help brighten up the day. _Time for some fish and chips._

*****

Working with scientists was bad enough, Angela mused. All that gore and quantum physics and pond scum. But working with them _and_ dealing with them? Deadly. Painful quit-your-job-and-join-a-nunnery deadly. You'd think with all that brain in there and all their talk of being more evolved that they would at least be a little humble. But some of the biggest egos she'd ever met promenaded up and down the halls of the Jeffersonian, preening as if they were wearing ermine and velvet instead of serviceable cotton lab jackets. She snorted disdainfully. _And they call artists egotistical and arrogant. I can't believe it's only Wednesday. I wish this week was over_. With a long-suffering sigh she ascended the stairs to the platform, heading toward Zach and Hodgins, who appeared to be having a spat of their own.

"You've been acting funny all week, Zach. You've been staring at me. You've been staring at Angela too. Why are you watching us?" Hodgins planted his hands on his hips and stared down Zach, who was clearly intent on his job and only sparing a fraction of his attention for his co-worker.

Without looking up from his work, Zach responded, his posture making it appear as if he was speaking to the slide sample. "I'm not staring at you now. Why do you think I would want to watch you?"

"I don't know, but you're gonna tell me, or I will make your life miserable, I promise you." When he caught sight of Zach's bemused stare, his annoyance level amped up several notches. "Zach..."

"We probably shouldn't do this now." He cast an uneasy glance around the large room. "Dr. Brennan could walk in any moment."

Hodgins hissed and flung his arms out impatiently. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Leaning forward as if to impart a great secret, Zach began speaking earnestly, his voice just above a whisper. "She's been in an extremely inconsistent mood this week. I don't want to get in trouble. I would hate to be subject to any disciplinary measures."

"Listen, buddy, Dr. Brennan's the _least_ of your problems. You should be worrying about what _I'm_ going to do to you, not Dr. B." He frowned threateningly. "And don't give me that confused stare. It's not gonna work on me, because I know. _I_ know that _you_ know very well what I'm talking about. So spill. Let's hear it."

Blinking owlishly at Hodgins, Zach clutched the slide to his chest and stared mutely at him.

With a frustrated growl, Hodgins opened his mouth to yell, but spotted Angela approaching and thought better of it. "We are _not_ done – I'll talk to you later." Spinning on his heel, he beamed at Angela as she steamed up to him. "Hey, you got my filamentous algae from Dr. Leptara! Thanks, babe."

"Yeah – you're welcome." Without a moment's pause, her lips firmed and she punched Hodgins squarely in the chest.

While Hodgins wheezed in surprise, Zach quickly moved to the other side of the examining table and relative safety. Angela was famous for being rather arbitrary when meting out punishments. It was always sensible to have both a safe area to stand and, failing that, a clear escape route.

"Ouch! What the hell!" Wondering what he could possibly have done, Hodgins stared wide-eyed at her and rubbed his chest. "What was that for?"

"_That's _for the fistfight _I_ had to break up between Dr. Leptara and Dr. Gilles." She swung quickly back to him, enjoying his quick flinch just a little too much. "Next time go get your _own_ algae, Jack."

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Sighing, she quickly relented, her temper rapidly dissipating. She could never really stay mad at anyone for long. Besides, the humor of the situation was growing on her. "Oh, I'm fine. I got there right after Dr. Gilles' immature Goliath Butterfly escaped and flew into the Herpetology Room."

"Uh-oh." Having determined that he was no longer in immediate danger of bodily harm, Zach sidled closer, very much intrigued by Angela's story. "Herpetology is not a healthy environment for a butterfly."

"You don't know the half of it. Apparently, Dr. Leptara's Argentinian Horned Frog _ate_ the butterfly." She lifted a brow in shock. "My god, you could hear the outraged howls from the elevator! And then..."

"Wait a minute." Hodgins quickly held up his hand as he began to realize what was coming. "The Goliath is a _toxic_ butterfly, so..."

"Yeah, exactly. About sixty seconds after eating the butterfly, the _toad_ keeled over." She fought desperately against the smile, but it finally won out as the absurdity of the story became even more apparent.

Hodgins snorted in unholy amusement. "Can a toad even keel over? I mean, they're really low to the ground. Wouldn't it just kinda..._sag_?"

Aiming a trenchant stare at him, she crossed her arms. "Keel, sag, whatever, Jack. The toad was dead, and I walked in on our two lovely scientists swinging madly at each other and screaming about which of the poor departed darlings was rarer."

Pleased that for once the conversation was about something he understood, Zach piped up helpfully. "That would be the Goliath Butterfly, Angela."

"Thank you, Zach. Anyway, Dr. Gilles is screaming about how the butterfly was aposematic or something, and that the toad should have known not to eat it, and Dr. Leptara is shouting that they're from different parts of the world, so how could the toad know that the bright colors were a warning..." Finally losing control, she pressed her palm to her mouth, shaking with laughter until her eyes streamed. "Oh, I'm _so_ glad that amusing things happen around here to balance out all the gore and blechiness."

His face red from laughing, Hodgins dropped onto a nearby stool and slowly wiped the tears off his cheeks. "Man, it sounds like the start of a really bad joke...'the Herpetologist and the Lepidopterist exchanging blows over a dead toad and butterfly..." He caught Angela's eye and promptly began giggling again. "So tell me – how did you break up the fight?"

"I tossed the water from the toad's habitat on both of them. They were soaked!"

Zach shifted from foot to foot, casting his eyes nervously toward the offices. "We probably shouldn't engage in this much jocularity on the platform. I'm sure Dr. Brennan wouldn't like it."

"Wouldn't like what?" Brennan's voice cut sharply through the amusement like a machete through underbrush. Having mounted the stairs when they were laughing, she stood directly behind them, crisply snapping on a pair of nitrile gloves in the sudden and dramatic silence.

"Oh nothing, Bren, just a little altercation in Herpetology. It's not important." Rolling her eyes at Hodgins as Brennan swept past, Angela caught up her clipboard and dutifully followed her friend to the third exam table. Oh man. She'd known this was coming. Brennan had been noticeably standoffish on Sunday when she'd called her, and had disconnected after only five minutes. And that was only the beginning. All week she'd been uncommunicative and short-tempered, obsessing over work like she hadn't for years. But the capper had been when she'd refused to go with her for lunch yesterday. Too much work, she'd said. Busy. _Yeah. Too much brooding is more like it._ She wasn't sure what had happened between the two of them, but she was almost positive it had started Saturday night on the dance floor.

"We really don't have time for office gossip today. There are numerous things still to be done before Booth and I leave for Warm Springs this afternoon. Zach, I need you to analyze the bone density of the femur head and the ilium. We need to determine if the wear to the bone is due to standard repetitive motion. Dr. Hodgins, your algae will have to wait. There appears to be some type of biological debris embedded in a groove, deep inside the fourth dorsal foramen. Please retrieve three specimens for examination." As she spoke, her tone curt and clipped, she handed the bone in question to him and bent back over the remaining pieces without glancing to see if either of them were doing her bidding.

"And, uh, what do you need me to do, sweetie? Because I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get much out of this one small shard of skull." Propping her clipboard on her hip, Angela looked over, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a bit. _And_ keep the explosion she was sure was on the way under wraps for just a little longer. Maybe if she could get Brennan through the morning she could coax her out for a quick lunch later on. Hell, if coaxing wouldn't work she'd resort to dragging. Or blackmail. _That's what friends are for, right? _But the mute stare she received in reply was not promising. Ah, well. It appeared that today was a day for fireworks. Accepting their fate with a shrug and a pasted-on smile, she watched Brennan drag her gloves off and thrust them into the waste container before striding purposefully off the platform with nary a glance at her coworkers. _Oh, no you don't_. She was headed back to her office, where she'd only sit and stew and think up new and horrible jobs for them all. This had to be stopped. Well, it was her best friend, so it was up to her to fall on the Brennan Grenade. With a dramatic, long-suffering sigh she briskly tailed her off the platform, intent on bearding the lioness in her scientific den.

Hodgins watched her leave, sparing an admiring, longing glance at her retreating form. When she disappeared from view, his mood rapidly changed and he whirled, stalking over to Zach and hurling an accusing finger at him. "You. No more avoiding my questions. I want to know why you've been looking at me so strangely all day, and I want to know _now_."

"I saw you and Angela copulating Saturday night."

Several intense emotions crossed Hodgins' face as he struggled momentarily to activate his vocal cords, not the least of them astonishment and anger. "What the _hell_ are you talking about, Zach?" In an instant he was nose to nose with the younger man, bristling indignantly. "Were you spying on us? Because if you were..."

"No. I much prefer continuing my studies and completing extra work from the lab to walking outside at night. I rarely leave the house unless I have to, and then mostly for work."

"Well then _how_ –"

"The lab you installed in the attic has an exemplary view of the East Lawn."

Several tense moments passed while Hodgins glared at Zach, clearly planning some untimely demise. "Dogs. Big, snarling, vicious dogs. I'm gettin' 'em, I swear it."

Zach stared passively at him. "I appreciate the warning, but in actuality it seems that if you insist on engaging in sexual intercourse on the grounds, the dogs will pose more of a problem for you than they will for me." Considering the conversation over, Zach turned briskly to the forensic macroscope and began carefully mounting his slides.

His face a study in vexation, Hodgins clenched his fist, and then slowly released it as he managed to regain control. "Fine. But I'm boarding up that window this weekend." Spinning sharply on his heel, he stormed off the platform, intent on terrifying some other hapless grad student.

Bent over the slide, Zach focused the viewpiece as a small smile surfaced.

*****

Her thoughts as black as the gloves she'd just discarded, Brennan dropped smartly into her chair and logged onto the computer. When she heard the door open again, she didn't even turn around. "I'm very busy right now, Angela. Whatever it is will have to wait."

"Oh, no, I don't think so, Brennan. We need to talk, and _now_. I'm not taking no, or whatever else you're going to say to put me off, for an answer." Silently turning the deadbolt, she ignored the chairs and stood at the edge of the desk, hands on hips. "You need to tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on, Angela. Nothing except that I'm trying to complete a sufficient amount of the backlogged work in order to make my absence more tolerable." Busily typing an email, she gaped, stunned, when Angela yanked her chair around to confront her.

"Well, I can tell you right now that your absence would not only be tolerable, it would be greatly welcomed. It's been a long time since you treated the team like inanimate objects. I'd forgotten just how insulting it is." One sensuous brow arched in equal parts annoyance and amusement. "At least before it was because you were ridiculously driven and slightly oblivious. Now you're just being selfish."

Caught off-guard by Angela's uncharacteristically harsh words, she could feel the emotion surging up, tightening her throat and making her eyes sting. She dropped her gaze to her lap, wishing desperately for an urgent summons somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else. "I'm just extremely busy, Angela. I apologize if I've been a bit focused."

Satisfied that she'd snapped Brennan out of her standard walls-up mode, Angela quickly sank to her knees in front of her and grabbed her hands. "Oh, honey, don't be upset. I'm not mad – I'm sorry, too. Talk to me, Bren. I know that what's been going on with you has nothing to do with work and everything to do with Booth. Something's wrong, I know it. Please tell me."

Feeling unusually edgy, she seized a rubber band from her desk, twisting and pulling at it. "I don't know how to explain it. I'm not sure what's wrong. Well, I _know_ what's wrong, but I don't know how to fix it." Confusion and pain flitted across her face. "I _think _I know what's wrong...but maybe nothing's wrong."

Sitting back on her heels, Angela stared at her as if she'd suddenly announced that she hated anthropology. "Well, _that_ has to be one of the least concise things you've _ever_ said. This calls for more comfortable seating. C'mon, let's go." Determinedly she dragged Brennan over to the couch, dropping down and pulling her close. "Okay. You have my undivided attention, my unwavering support, and my sympathetic tear ducts. Continue."

The words coming slowly, she dispiritedly began to relate her story. "Booth and I...we...we sort of made a bet."

Angela's eyes flared wide. "Wait a minute. You made a bet with Booth – a recovering gambling addict. Are you serious?"

"Not for money or on sports or anything like that. Not a real bet. But...yes."

"Okay, well if it wasn't for money, and wasn't a 'real' bet, what was it about?"

Anticipating her friend's reaction, Brennan winced inwardly before continuing. "He bet me that he could convince me within three months that sex alone wasn't enough. That I'd want romance as well as sex at the end of that time."

Unsure if she should laugh, cry or shout, Angela gaped at her friend, stunned speechless for the first time in her very worldly life.

Glancing over, Brennan tried to decipher her mood but couldn't manage it. It was hard to tell sometimes, with Angela. Those dark eyes could be surprisingly guarded. But an instant later she had her answer when Angela sprang up from the couch to pace agitatedly in front of her. Her faced was flushed, her expression ripe with temper. "You're mad at me."

Whirling around to face her, arms akimbo, Angela nearly snarled at her, angry tears leaping into her eyes. The unwavering support she'd promised was instantly thrown aside as she struggled with her emotions. "You're damned right I'm mad at you. I'm furious with _both_ of you." Unable to stand still, her long legs scissored jerkily as she moved back and forth.

Brennan cautiously chose her next words, disconcerted by the extent of Angela's distress. "I don't understand. You've been so happy that we're involved. You tried to get us together for years. What's changed?"

"What's changed? Let me tell you what's changed. Making a bet like this was the _worst_ thing you could possibly have done. In one fell swoop the two of you trivialized both your beliefs _and_ Booth's feelings. _That's_ what changed. What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Unconsciously rubbing at her aching throat, Brennan swallowed hard. "I...I don't know. I realized I was sexually interested in Booth, and I thought he returned the sentiment. But he also wanted an emotional connection, and I...wasn't comfortable with that. We disagreed about it, and then...I'm not sure what he was thinking, but he _bet_ me."

"And that disturbing occurrence didn't raise any warning flags?" Before Brennan could answer, Angela testily waved away the question. "Never mind, of _course_ it didn't. So, what – the two of you spit over a line, signed papers? What's the time limit? Is there a moratorium on Sundays and holidays?"

Brennan winced again, outwardly this time, and dropped her gaze to her knees. "Of course not. It's not like that."

"Isn't it? So, who's winning? Shall I start an office pool?" Her tone was painfully cutting; her face a mask of stone.

"Angela. Please...I don't understand..."

"Exactly. _You don't understand_. And apparently neither does Booth, to my great surprise and disappointment. I thought for sure _he'd_ have more sense." She heaved a huge trembling sigh. "Let me try and explain this to you." Crossing her arms, she held herself tightly, as if she could physically contain her volatile emotions. "You know, it's not like you can order up someone like Booth on a menu...'Oh, I'll have the tall man, well-done, but leave off the romance, please'. It doesn't work that way...men like Booth are one in a million. They don't come around every day. And they _cannot_ separate sex and emotion. The two things are one and the same to them. _What if you win this bet?_ What do you think will happen to the wonderful connection the two of you have always had?" Brennan opened her mouth to speak, but Angela merely held up on impatient hand. "Wait. I'm not done. You're _also_ one in a million, Brennan. Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you always sell yourself short, deny yourself happiness? The two of you could have something so special, something_ real_. Instead, you decided to make it all just a game. Something to be won." She turned sadly away, the first tear escaping down her cheek. "Something to be _lost_."

At Angela's words, Brennan felt the tension in her stomach tighten painfully. They'd casually affirmed their intent to remain friends and partners in the beginning, regardless of what happened. But what if that was impossible? What would she do? She didn't want to get hurt. But she also didn't want to hurt Booth. He was her best friend. Feeling suddenly old and decrepit, she flicked her fingers under her eyes and dashed away the dampness that threatened to fall. "I didn't mean it like that, Angela. It was just...the attraction was so strong, and Booth wanted me too, I know he did. It seemed the most expeditious method of getting what both of us wanted."

"Of getting what _you_ wanted, you mean. You never had any intention of accepting romance from Booth. You agreed to enter into a bet with a gambling junkie, a bet with your best friend, that you never intended to honor. Where's the logic in that? And why is Booth's romance such anathema to you, anyway?"

"Not just Booth's, Angela." Her eyes wide and pleading, she wrung her hands tightly together, her knuckles whitening painfully. "I don't want romance from anyone. Not ever again." Her intense stare lanced across the room, and she watched Angela jerk and gasp in realization.

"Sweetie. _That's_ what's bothering you. I know that was such a bad time for you, but I thought you were just avoiding romantic entanglements because you were so focused on your career after college." She quickly crossed the room and sank down next to Brennan, embracing her fiercely. "I'm so sorry, I didn't understand. Have you told Booth?" The ensuing silence provided her with her answer. "Bren, you need to talk to Booth. Talk with him, explain everything."

"I don't think I can, Angela." She turned raw, red eyes on her friend. "It's so difficult..."

"Which is why you need to say all of it out loud." Ignoring Brennan's rigid posture, Angela swept her up in another loving hug. "I know you don't believe me, but it really will help. Now I want you to listen to me. You've never let anything in your past stop you, not ever. Don't give in now. And try to remember that what happened is all in the past. Ancient history, sweetie."

"Even Rafiq?" Although she'd closed her eyes so as to not see Angela's expression, she could feel her response in every furious inch of her friend's body.

"Even Rafiq, may he never walk without a limp for the rest of his days. You overcame what happened, rose above it all– nothing is more important than remembering that. That's why you need to talk to Booth. You need to be honest, _really_ honest, with each other. Neither of you can make the right choices in your lives until you've done that." Patting her affectionately on the back, Angela leaned away, smiling wetly at her. "_Don't_ make me get rough with the two of you. The whole point was for you to be together – the _right_ way."

A sudden nauseating wave of grief swamped her, and she stared morosely at Angela. "I don't know if I can do that."

They weren't just talking about the honesty now, and each realized the other knew it. Angela fought off the urge to weep and held her hands out in a show of support. "Then he deserves to know that, too. Just try to be sure before you speak, and take care when you do. You're a bridge-burner, Brennan. Be careful you don't destroy the very span you need to cross the most." Feeling keenly the need to lighten things up just a bit, she smiled shakily and reached out for the rubber band Brennan still had twined in her fingers. "Now, you'd better give that to me. Something's going on between Z-man and Hodgins. I have a feeling Jack is going to need to wear this for a while."

*****

At last. Booth let go of a sigh and threw off all the tension that had accumulated over the past few days. He lowered the window, enjoying the flow of crisp air into the truck. Knowing that once Brennan was with him they'd be arguing constantly over the radio selection and volume, he grinned and jabbed a button, and Led Zeppelin launched out of the speakers. Singing with Robert about Valhalla and the Hammer of the Gods, he sent the Tahoe sailing toward the Jeffersonian. Fucking _finally_. It was all behind him now, all of the annoyance, all of the clusterfucks, all of the politics and ineptitude. Now they could just go _work_. He thought vaguely that he'd be torn to pieces when the time inevitably came for him to be a full-time desk jockey. It had always been all about the fieldwork for him, from the very first case. Following leads, getting that snapping feeling in his gut, that crawling sensation up his spine when one lead just _felt_ better than the others. Conducting interviews and creating a cohesive picture from all the statements he collected from all the people. Weaving a labyrinth of facts and details and words around a suspect until they gave themselves away, or ratted out their accomplices, or just flat out confessed. He _loved_ it. And his job had only gotten better since Bones had started working with him. She'd forced his hand in the beginning, and he'd been furious at being outmaneuvered. Thank God she'd done it. Not only was their close rate astronomically high, but he also got to spend as much time as possible with her. He'd spend it all with her, if she'd let him. He was hopeful that someday soon she _would_ let him.

Pounding on his horn good-naturedly, he wasn't even able to drum up the typical annoyance for the cross-town commute. He was just gonna stop in and chase Bones from behind her desk, or away from the exam tables, or out of the depths of Limbo, and they'd be on their way to Warm Springs. He'd wanted to get away from D.C. with her for a while now, and this trip was the perfect opportunity to be together far from prying eyes. Not that this was a romantic trip. Far from it, as a matter of fact. They had to get a shitload of work done in just a few days. But he really wanted it to just be _them_ for a little while. A blinding grin lit his face as he rounded the corner and spotted the Jeffersonian looming in the distance. _Yep. Another thirty minutes and we'll be outta here._ He depressed the accelerator, sending the truck rushing forward.

He couldn't wait.

**Just a little glossary term for you. Fish and Chips is a term used by the U.S. Army Infantry and the Army Rangers. It's an acronym for Fighting In Someone's House and Causing Havoc In Peoples Streets. Rangers lead the way!**


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm baaaaack! For those of you who don't know, my creative muse withered and died completely these last two months. I sincerely apologize for leaving all of you hanging, and hope you had the patience to stick with me. Hopefully there are no little voodoo dolls out there with my face on them. I don't know if the rapidly-approaching season is responsible for this chapter, or if my muse/bitch just decided to show her face now. So - here is the next chapter, and I really hope you find it worth the abominably long wait. Thank you to all of you who reached out to me and reassured me. It was very heartening to know you didn't hate me! Or - if you did, you didn't say so. Heh. Thank you again.**

**THE BET  
**

_Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump..._Booth sighed as they slid into mile ninety-seven of their two hundred and fifteen mile trip. They'd been on the road for over two hours and she was still acting freaky. Hazarding a glance at her, he took in her set jaw and stiff back and turned his eyes wearily back to the highway.

Bones was in a shitter of a mood, had been since he'd walked into the Jeffersonian. Giving her time to gain her footing obviously hadn't been one of his better ideas. By the time he'd been able to drag her out of the lab they were an hour and a half behind and three arguments deep. Even as he'd herded her down the hall she'd refused to relinquish her hold on Zach's arm, and had only stopped spitting out instructions when he shut the door in her face. Since then she'd pointedly ignored him, instead keeping busy on her phone and laptop with a myriad of reports and lessons and articles. All his efforts to get any kind of satisfactory response from her were shot down without hesitation. Hell, he was beginning to feel like he had when they'd first started working cases together. Back then they'd been at each other's throats more often than not. Unable to repress a nostalgic smile at the thought, he remembered one particularly frustrating week when she hadn't spoken to him at all unless it was directly related to the case. _Old school days, yeah._

She began to fish for her celphone again and he carefully kept his gaze on the road. She was crazy if she thought she'd get a signal out here. They were well into the foothills of the Appalachians, and the service on his phone had been spotty when Charlie called him with a question twenty minutes ago. He remained silent while she tried to make a call a second time, and then a third. It was no use. She wouldn't be able to reach the lab until they were nearer to a town. Reluctantly she began to put her phone away, but apparently changed her mind and quickly tried again.

"Problem, Bones?" When she cut her eyes at him, he swore he felt the slice, somewhere just below the chin. Well aware of her frustration, he kept his expression bland.

"There's no problem. Why do you think that there's a problem?"

"Oh, I don't know – maybe because you just tried to call the lab seventeen times. Everything okay?"

"I did not try to call the lab seventeen times. Everything is fine. I have more instructions for Zach, but I've been unsuccessful in establishing a phone connection with the Jeffersonian."

He suppressed a gusty sigh of annoyance at her tart tone. "You could just send him an email."

From her expression, it was clear that she considered his solution less than satisfactory. "That's not going to work either, Booth. Obviously if I can't connect with the phone I can't send emails."

"Maybe not right now, but send it anyway. It'll just sit in your outbox until we hit a spot with a signal. Problem solved." When he smiled at her he could almost _smell _the aggravation blasting toward him. He felt the tight hold he had on his temper loosen a bit more.

"That's completely unsatisfactory. I have very detailed instructions to give to Zach – it would take much too long to compose an email." A blast of compressed air shot from her tight lips. "You couldn't possibly understand."

He felt the smile ooze from his face, noted the slow throbbing in his temple. And felt the last of his patience slip just out of his grasp. He'd tried patience. Now he'd try something else. "All right, what the hell is going on? Why're you climbing all over me?"

Surprise flashed briefly across her face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Bones. Even _you_ aren't _that_ oblivious. You've been snarky all day for no reason and it's starting to bug the hell out of me."

"What? Snarky? I don't know what that means."

"Irritable, Bones. It means _irritable_. You've been snapping and snarling ever since I got to the lab. Every time I say one word to you, you give me the evil eye. I want to know what the hell your problem is today. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Booth."

A scowl on his face and ready retort on his lips, he glanced over, fully intending to continue. But when he saw her expression he stuffed whatever he'd been about to say back in his mouth. She didn't look mad. She looked uncomfortable and upset. Miserable, even. This was more than knee-jerk peevishness on her part. Something was really _wrong_. Fighting a rising sense of alarm, he managed to look to the road again. Now was not the time for this. No matter how much he wanted to just pull over and have it out with her, it would have to wait. They had a job to do and it deserved his full attention. He didn't want to distract her, either. She needed to be able to focus on her science. Tonight. Once they'd seen the sheriff and made what arrangements needed to be made, then they could talk. He'd make sure she got a meal, too. She hadn't eaten anything since they'd set out, and since she barely ate under normal circumstances he doubted she'd had any breakfast. He settled back in the seat, forcing himself to relax. He'd corner her tonight, and they would damn well do some talking.

*****

Exhausted from the long day and the inner tumult she'd been suppressing, Brennan rubbed at her eyes in a rare display of weakness. They'd arrived in town and headed straight out to the cemetery. From there, they'd followed the exhumed remains to the antiquated medical examiner's office, where she'd photographed and sliced and probed and collected samples for nearly two hours. She would have preferred to push on and begin talking to the family, but Booth had quietly overridden her, insisting that they eat and call it a night. They were both tired, and he'd wanted to tackle the interviews when they were fresh. She had felt the resentment welling up inside and had just managed to not contradict him. She'd known he was right. It would have been foolish to continue working at that point. She took a quick, covert glance at him. He looked tired, at least as tired as she felt. He'd been quiet since they'd snapped at each other earlier, spending most of his time either on the phone or questioning the sheriff. Not angry. Just...quiet. "How far away is the hotel?"

"No hotel this time. We're booked at Three Hills Inn. It's a B and B," he added when she only stared at him. "I rented the Garden Cottage. It's separate from the main house –"

"Why did you do that? I don't think that's a good idea. We should remain professional; we have a job to do -"

"Which is why I rented it." His tone as he cut her off was muted and carefully neutral. "There are two bedrooms."

"Oh." Embarrassment, an emotion with which she was only mildly familiar, flooded her. "I see." Casting her gaze away, she stared unseeingly out into the darkness beyond the cool glass.

"Did you think I planned this as some sort of romantic getaway?"

Her stomach curled at the sound of his voice, low-pitched and full of hurt. "I didn't know. It's just that normally we stay at a local hotel –"

"The hotel was booked solid. And we have a very full day ahead of us tomorrow. The B and B seemed like the most sensible alternative. I thought the cabin would give you more privacy for any work you need to do, and the evidence will be more secure in a separate building."

"I'm sorry...I apologize."

"Never mind." With a quick spin of the wheel he cut the Tahoe around a sharp turn onto a narrow stone-paved cutoff, navigating the neatly-tended drive with ease. "We're here."

She was treating him horribly. It wasn't fair to do this to him. With an unfamiliar ache in her throat, she registered the crunch of gravel underneath the tires and saw tree after identical pine tree flash past the window. But all she thought of was the sound of his voice, the look on his face. She went through the familiar routine in painful silence, checking in and lugging her dufflebag and equipment into the quaint little bungalow behind the larger main residence.

The minute she was safe in her room she began to pace. She was angry. Angry at herself. Angela was right. Something had to be done. She should just have told him what was wrong – directness was a quality she valued greatly. Why didn't she just say something? As she asked herself the question, panic rose quickly and she stepped away from it, mentally and physically. She strode back across the room, intent on preparing to go to bed. But her thoughts battered her relentlessly, and once she was in her bathrobe and slippers she simply sat, staring blankly at the wall. When the emotions rose so high she thought she would break, she pulled out her laptop and buried herself in her preliminary report, transcribing several pages in a furious rush.

She'd only just begun to regain control of her emotions when a soft knock broke the silence. Although it wasn't his typical lively cadence she was well aware of just who was on the other side of the door. Even if she'd been in D.C. she'd have known who it was. The coward in her – and to her surprise and dismay there _was_ a coward in her – wanted to fling the covers over her head and risk suffocation rather than face him again. The realist in her made her get up and go to the door. It was useless to hide from the situation. Better to face it, and him, head-on. Her mind full of calculations and excuses and arguments, she swung open the door.

"Bones."

His eyes were so dark and so bleak she couldn't help but notice. "Booth, I –" Before she could finish her sentence, before she was sure what she was even going to say, he laid a gentle finger against her lips.

At her wide, questioning stare he simply shook his head, his face patient and somber. "Come with me. Please."

She hesitated a moment, looking searchingly at him. Whatever maelstrom of emotion was careening inside her, first and foremost he was her partner. Her friend. Because of that she followed him. When he didn't stop in the small living room but headed for the door she opened her mouth to say something. She wasn't dressed to go out and neither was he. But his eyes flicked back to her and once again her protest dried up in her throat. Her eyes found the grinning cartoon character stretched across the back of his shirt and she focused on it, unaware the rattle of cicadas or the bright wash of moonlight over them as they walked to the truck.

Three silent minutes later he hooked a left and parked, cutting the lights and leaving them in darkness. He sat quietly for a moment and then grabbed a dufflebag and swung out of his seat, rounding the truck to her. Unsure as to his mood, she accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull her back out into the moonlight. As they headed up the path, she wondered at the two circular, dimly illuminated buildings they were nearing. Bypassing the first, he approached the larger building and led her inside.

She registered the faint odor of something vaguely familiar even before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The reason she could see at all was answered when she noticed the hole in the roof. Not a skylight but an actual opening, letting in the light and the sound from the night. Casting her gaze around again she was finally able to see where they were. Water spread out before her, as still and quiet as if it was frozen. It was so clear that it was almost invisible, a quality only heightened by the moonlight spilling in from overhead. Before she could ask, Booth spoke, his murmured comment barely stirring the air.

"Warm springs. The springs the town's named after. A pal of mine works in the area, cleared it with management for us to use it tonight." Glancing over at her, he spotted her cautious expression and his mouth firmed with anger. "Give me _some_ credit, Bones. Something's obviously wrong. It's somewhere private, somewhere relaxing. We need to talk."

She flinched inwardly. That. What she'd just thought, what she might as well have said. Some things never changed, no matter how hard you tried to change them. That was exactly why they needed to talk. She nodded, hanging her robe and pajamas on the wall hooks and slipping quietly into the heated water.

He watched her for a moment before pulling off his sweats and t-shirt and dropping in beside her. He didn't fail to notice that she immediately moved away, across the pool to the other side. At the sight of her slim, pale back, so strong and yet so obviously stiff with misery, a ferocious need rose in him. He needed the reassurance of her touch, needed it badly. As fair as he tried to be he was only human, and though he silently cursed himself for his weakness he shoved through the water toward her, the balmy fluid swirling lazily around his lean waist. Nearing her just as she submerged he silently cleaved the water, arrowing down with deadly proficiency, his only thoughts of her. His wide palm brushed against her smooth hip and he instantly pulled her to him for a kiss thicker than water; thicker than syrup. The coil of her arms and hair slowly roped around him in a way that made him wish they'd never need air again. He knew he was doing exactly what he'd said was not his intent only moments earlier. If she'd pushed away or tried to stop him he would have let her, as much as it would have hurt. But the minute his lips touched hers she returned the embrace, seeming to need the contact as much as he did. They clung to each other, hiding in the clear depths, the silent water a witness to their need until finally they had no choice but to surface. He pressed his forehead to hers, prolonging the moment as much as he dared. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"It's all right. I understand."

He heard her slight breathlessness and knew, like his, that it was only partly due to being submerged. "I missed you."

"I know."

Her back had relaxed fractionally under his hands, and her face wasn't quite as tight. Relieved that she seemed calmer and that she hadn't rejected him outright, he dropped his arms and pushed away from her, resting his back against the side of the pool. "Talk to me."

She looked at him, just took a moment and stared. Somewhere in the last few minutes, all of her carefully prepared statements had evaporated completely. "I – I don't know what to say."

He hated to see her like this, scared and in turmoil, at a loss for words. "Just tell me why you're so upset."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Booth," she hissed in frustration. She didn't want to be here. Now that the moment was upon her she wanted to run as far and as fast as she could.

"It's hard to pretend to be sarcastic when water's dripping off your nose, Bones. Just start. I don't want you to say anything but whatever's on your mind."

"I don't know if I can do this."

"That's why we came here, so we could talk –"

"That's not what I mean." When he fell silent, she stared glumly at him. "I'm saying that I don't know if I can do _this_."

She wasn't just talking about tonight. Acutely aware of the gaping hole she'd just opened in his chest, he stared dumbly at her. "I don't understand." _Fool_, his inner voice mocked viciously. _You knew this could happen._

"This. The romance, the relationship. It's not what I want."

"You were willing to expose yourself to it before, Bones. And I don't recall you decking me for it anytime recently. You've been fine with it up to now – you must have wanted some of it." At her disbelieving stare he continued, determined to convince her somehow. "It's a normal part of the human condition, it's why the race moves forward. Because we _want_…"

"What do _you_ want from _me_, Booth?"

"I want you to be happy. I want _you_. _I want_ _us_."

"You want to win the bet, too." When he gaped at her she flinched. "What I mean – I just meant that you are a gambling addict. How much of what has happened is because you want to win?"

He somehow understood instantly that she wasn't questioning his motives as much as she was her value. That she somehow thought she wasn't worth fighting for simply stunned him. "Fine – that's easily solved. I don't give a rat's ass about the goddamn bet. If it's worrying you, we'll drop it here and now. You're worth so much more to me than a stupid wager. But I'm telling you right now, between you and me – _none_ of what I've done has been because of the bet. _None of it._"

For a moment she said nothing, merely watching him. She didn't want to believe him. If she believed him, it would mean something. She wasn't ready to face that. She couldn't face it. Before she could change her mind she plunged forward. She would tell him. And once she had, he would understand. "There are some things you should know about me. I won't even bother mentioning the typical college dramas. I'm sure all teenagers went through most of them. But there are other things...important things you should know."

He could tell by looking at her that the trials she so quickly dismissed had been much more than the typical college dramas. He let those pass, knowing they were for another time. But he had to know what was putting that tormented look on her face. "Tell me."

Settling on the low bench set in the pool wall, she met his gaze in her typical direct fashion. "I met Ben during the first week of school. He was very talkative, very outgoing. That was fortunate because I rarely talked at all. I was always happiest when I was alone with my books and my bones. I'd nearly stopped socializing altogether at that point."

It was in every line of her; there was a real, tangible reason why she had a problem truly connecting with other people. _Damn it._ He should have realized that. As bad as her childhood experiences had been, it was more than just that. "What happened?"

"Ben took me out; we went places. I had a good time, and I liked him a lot. It was the first real relationship I ever had."

"But it didn't work." He knew from the pained look on her face that it clearly had not ended well.

"It worked until he got what he wanted." When she saw the comprehension on his face she nodded in acknowledgement. "He was my first boyfriend." Swallowing awkwardly, she continued. "He didn't stay long after that. I finally realized what was happening. I don't catch on quickly, but I finally perceived the obvious and realized it was over."

Gathering her breath and her courage, she continued. "After that it was Evan. He was extremely bright and quite exceptionally talented in his studies. He'd lost his parents at an early age as I had, which I felt gave us something in common. As it happens, it was the only thing we had in common. He spoke seven languages fluently and lied to me in every one of them. I discovered he was cheating on me when I came back to my dorm room early because I had pneumonia. I walked in on him and my roommate in bed together. Evan tried to reason with me, to apologize. He brought me flowers the next day and said he had a good explanation." She grimaced morosely. "He told me that I'd been neglecting him, I had been too focused on my studies and had left him out, ignored him. He was just acting out because he was hurt."

So all of her sounding off about the lack of merit in monogamous relationships, or at least a significant portion of it, was just another way of coping. Imagining her, young and ill and betrayed, his hands began to itch with the need to exact revenge on her behalf. "I really hope you didn't buy that line of bullshit."

"Of course not." She aimed a hot stare at him. "His cheating had nothing to do with me. Evan was a pathological liar. His apology was just an attempt to blame me for his shortcomings. I quickly discouraged him. And I learned a valuable lesson. That's when I moved in with Angela. We were friends by then, and she had been trying to convince me to room with her. She was wonderful to me."

"Bones..."

"I'm not done." She spared him a single bleak glance. "There's more."

The hair stood up on the back of his neck at her expression. He only hoped he could stay calm for whatever the hell was next. He could tell it was bad; could feel it in every inch of his body. His instincts were screaming a warning. And they were never wrong.

"I met Rafiq six months later. He came to college as an exchange student, eager to leave behind what he felt were archaic traditions of his homeland. He was erudite and worldly. He neglected to mention, however, that there was one area where his beliefs meshed completely with those of his abandoned culture. He began to pressure me to study less, to spend more time helping him assimilate. To be a support for him. He was much more skilled at deceit than Evan - so much so that I wasn't even aware of the manipulation he employed. Yet even without being conscious of what he was doing, I resisted. My education was too important; I wasn't going to abandon it. Angered by what he perceived to be my lack of obedience, he decided to make the message quite a bit clearer." She sank lower in the water, desperately needing the heat. "I was just able to fight free. I hadn't had any self-defense training at that point but I still fought back. I managed to get away from him, get back to my room with only a black eye and fractured ulna."

He was sick; a putrid roiling rage was burning in him that wouldn't be extinguished. Carefully he swallowed the bile that had risen at her words. "Tell me that fucking bastard was arrested for aggravated assault."

"No. I didn't want that. I got away, and I didn't want to attract any more attention than I already had. I understand how illogical my reaction was, but at that time all I wanted was to blend in. I wanted to disappear."

He needed to hurt something. To break something, anything, because he couldn't break the son of a bitch who'd done this to her. With difficulty he managed to keep his voice low even as he gritted out the words. "You should have pressed charges."

"It would have been his word against mine. They wouldn't have believed me." She knew better now. She'd learned that wasn't always the case. But the words had come out anyway, unstoppable with him listening._ They never believed you. Never took your side_.

"That's not true. You know that's not true." Incensed on her behalf, he couldn't help his reaction, even as he knew it wasn't what she needed. This was _Bones_. It was unacceptable. "This guy...Rafiq..."

She looked at him again, a quiet, astute look. "No. I'm not going to tell you his last name because it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't matter."

"You say that, but obviously he _does_. Don't pretend that what happened to you isn't important, because it _is_. It _matters_, Bones. He should have paid for his crimes."

"Angela was so angry. When she realized what happened...I wasn't able to stop her. She went after him with a wood veiner."

A frown creased his features. "A what?"

"It's a carving tool. She was taking woodworking classes at the time. She embedded it so deeply into his thigh it almost didn't come out."

As the picture of a raging, bloodthirsty Angela played through his head he felt the blazing heat of his anger crank down one tiny notch. "Was she arrested?"

"No. When he threatened to go to the police she grabbed his genitals and told him if he breathed a word to anyone that I would press charges for aggravated assault." At his glance, she nodded slightly. "She already knew I wouldn't. But he didn't know. And he never said anything."

He knew every word she uttered was like pulling out splinters. Necessary, but painful. And bloody. That she was suffering was obvious. He gritted his teeth and watched her remove them by herself. And he knew there was nothing he could do for her.

"But Bones – all of these things? None of what happened to you was your fault. You didn't cause them to happen."

"A slight correction. None of what happened was my fault. But I did cause it to happen."

"That's not true. You didn't do anything wrong. You shouldn't blame yourself for their actions –"

"I don't blame myself for their actions. I'm not a fool, Booth. What they did, they did _to_ me. It's their fault for doing it. But...it's my fault for trusting them. After Rafiq, I realized what was wrong. So wrong." She laughed humorlessly. "It seems almost impossible that one person could make that many errors, could choose incorrectly so many times." Eyes downcast, she clutched her hands together under the water, watching her blurred knuckles whiten through the blue. "After some time, I finally realized that I was the common denominator. _I_ was the one with the problem." She saw him jerk violently, and her posture stiffened defensively until he subsided, the heated protest unspoken. "I'm smart. I'm so smart that I am well aware of my shortcomings. It's very hard, being intelligent enough to know what you _aren't_, Booth. It means that you're also intelligent enough to know that it's never going to change. People think that a person can outgrow the inability to judge people, that instincts can be developed. But that's not true. It's why I rely so heavily on evidence. Evidence never lies. It doesn't have any hidden agendas. It's never anything but what it is. In the end I decided to stop making mistakes. I am a horrible judge of character. So I decided to remove emotion from the equation and maintain only sexual or intellectual relationships. When I find I've chosen incorrectly, I simply move on."

"Bones, please don't do this to yourself."

"You said it yourself, Booth. I'm bad with people. I think I've proven that point beyond a doubt. Since you've known me, how many times has it happened? Michael. David. Will."

Thinking back, he remembered how upset she'd been after Will. He had comforted her, but hadn't realized that there was so much more going on underneath the surface. "What about Sully? He was a great guy..."

"Sully left." She leveled a despairing look at him. "Whatever good thing might have happened between us, he didn't stay. Maybe that makes _me_ selfish, but he chose to sail off on an impulse trip around the world rather than stay with the woman he purported to love."

A realization suddenly snapped into his head. She always thought of love in terms of loss. She'd never known anything else. He saw the truth of it in her eyes, in every line of her body, and fought the urge to go to her and hold her until that horrible haunted look faded. He'd been so patient all along in dealing with her, supporting her. Waiting for her. But now, when she needed his patience most of all he was filled with a painful urgency, a primal need to tend to her and shelter her. Where was his control? With a near-herculean effort he stayed in the center of the pool and took a calming breath, studying her carefully. Whereas the relating of her experiences had driven him into an almost uncontrollable mix of fury and empathy, it had had the exact opposite effect on her. She seemed almost preternaturally calm, almost as if she'd made a decision.

And she had, he realized suddenly. He knew her thought process well enough at this point; so well that he had no doubt how it had occurred. That was exactly what she'd done. Over the years she had carefully studied her relationships and their outcomes and had rationally and decisively arrived at her conclusion. But it was a wrong conclusion. "No. This has nothing to do with logic, and I can't believe that you would just accept that about yourself."

"I've thoroughly examined every aspect of this situation, Booth. My conclusion is correct."

"No. It's _flawed_. How can you examine this situation objectively when you're in the middle of it? You're a scientist - _you_ tell _me_. What's the first rule when you're observing something?"

Evasively she glanced away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Booth."

"You know exactly what I mean. You told me yourself when we investigated Marni Hunter's murder. You try to immerse yourself in a culture without distorting it with your own presence. Yourwords, Bones, not mine."

Shocked that he'd quoted her nearly verbatim, she stared uneasily at him. She'd never thought he paid any attention to what she said about her science. "That was a different situation entirely. I'm not observing another culture. I'm making a decision that's best for me, a decision that affects no one else…"

"No one? What about the people you shut out of your life? How are they not affected?" A brief hint of pain flickered in his eyes. "Your perception of who you are, your thoughts regarding the choices you make? All of those ideas are influenced by your involvement in them. You can't make a purely rational decision in this situation."

He was turning it all around on her, turning all of her time-honored constructs against her with barely a moment's hesitation. She thought quickly, desperate to find a way to make him understand. "Everyone in the world makes choices based on that same input, Booth. Personal decisions would never be made otherwise. _You _said it to _me_ last year – _we do the best with what we have_. There's no other choice."

"That's exactly my point, Bones. I don't blame you for making the decision you made. I even understand how you came to your decision. I just want you to admit that you might have misjudged. That you might have blamed yourself for something that was never your fault."

Once again stunned by how easily he'd turned the argument back on her, she closed her eyes. In that instant all the bitterness and suffering she had been trying to suppress came crushing in on her. "I didn't want to hurt anymore." Fists clenched, jaw aching, she blinked, staring down into the water in a desperate attempt to maintain control. "I couldn't bear it."

The sight of her quicksilver transition from logical to emotional – the hollow hoarseness in her whisper, the austere anguish in every part of her - lanced through him, causing a vicious ache to spread. "Bones...I'm so sorry."

"Over and over again, I tried. I tried to open up, to let someone in." Tears and spring water dripped from her cheeks, dropping silently into the water. "Every time I did, it hurt more. I finally just stopped. And the pain eventually went away." Fighting furiously for control, she hammered inwardly at herself until she could speak again. "I can't go through that again, Booth. I can't."

He wondered if she realized she'd only traded one type of pain for another. He got that. Self-preservation was coded into everyone. If it hurt badly enough for long enough when you did something, you learned to stop doing it. But the thought that she'd given up hope of ever being loved was appalling. At a loss for words he stared at her bowed head, wishing that he was smart enough to say the right thing. She was wrong. But he was afraid he wouldn't be able to convince her of that.

She looked at him, her eyes drenched with pain and self-doubt, and he moved without any consciousness of his actions. The wrap of her arms around his neck steadied him and he clutched her close, grateful for the feel of her face pressed into his neck. Her breathing was lulling him; her nearness a calming balm for his soul. He dropped his lips to her shoulder, trying not to think about her final words. That wasn't for now. Whether she knew it or not, she needed him now. Sinking deeper into the thermal water, he held her, whispering words of apology and comfort and reassurance while they bobbed in quiet circles. The steam danced around them, blanketing them and keeping their secrets. Whatever changes came later he would have to deal with them. No matter how much it hurt.

Even if it broke his heart.

**Love it? Hate it? Hell, if you at least read it, then I'm happy. Thank you again for your lovely words and your patience with me. **


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello, everyone! I managed to get another chapter out in less time than the last took - although, since the last chapter took three months, it would be hard to NOT manage to do it more quickly. I really hope everyone is still enjoying this story. For those of you who have stuck with me through all my writer's block and crazy real life schedule, thank you so much for your patience. Also, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviews. I answer everybody, even if it takes a little while, because I truly do appreciate your comments. For those who post anonymously, your remarks are just as valued. Thanks again, and have fun!**

**THE BET**

Booth flashed his lab ID at the outside entrance and made his way into the building, cutting through the steady stream of workers headed out for lunchtime. Making his way through the vascular network of corridors, he caught sight of a familiar janitorial figure rolling a large garbage can toward him and raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Mike."

"Booth. Did you watch the Eagles? Don't know what the hell Kolb was doing in that last game...he needs a good swift kick in the dupa."

An amused grin twisted his lips. "From your mouth, Mike. From your mouth..."

"I'm gonna be at the next game with a pocketful of batteries, I swear..."

"Hey, come on, now. No chucking stuff onto the field. We don't need another Bounty Bowl. You be good, Mike, you hear?" Smiling absently, he continued down the hall, his mood sobering rapidly as he neared the lab. His eagerness to get a break in the case ran apace with his desire to make headway on another, much more personal matter.

He and Bones had finished out their trip in strict professional mode, conducting their scheduled interviews and collecting any remaining evidence with their typical efficient teamwork. For more than one reason, he had avoided any mention of her searing revelation from the night before. And Bones had been quietly skittish with him the entire day, melting away from any prospect of physical contact and steering clear of all possible private moments. It was almost like her entire body was bruised. He wanted to touch her, but he knew he'd only hurt her. To spare both of them, he'd spent the entire drive home trading thoughts and opinions with her on the case and, once they were closer to D.C., contacting the office with information and instructions.

His offer to help her with her bags and kits had been instantly and politely refused, as he'd expected, and once she was safely ensconced in her car he'd had no choice but to let her go. He knew what would be next. She'd lock herself away in her apartment and lick her wounds, as she'd done so many times since he'd met her. But how did you lick your wounds when everything was a wound? In the past, he would have gone to her, knowing instinctively that something was wrong and nudging her until she began to feel better. But that wasn't an option now and he'd had to go home alone, tormented by the knowledge that he couldn't help her this time. And that wasn't his only torment. Fighting off the guilt that was swelling in him like nausea, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

Entering the large room he immediately scanned the entire area, his sharp eyes honing in on the first of his two objectives. Briskly he made his way to the small research station bordering the platform and cornered the scientist scribbling furiously in a coffee-stained notebook. "Hodgins. You analyze that dirt for me yet?" Anxious to get a jump on the newest lead, Booth planted his hands on his hips and looked expectantly at the smaller man's back.

Hodgins broke off from his writings. "Dude – how many times do I have to tell you that the word dirt is completely inadequate here? Just think of it as a four-letter word and leave it out of this venue." Fully aware that he was baiting the bear, he wisely kept the grin off his face as he swung around to face him. Booth had only just arrived and was clearly already jonesing for more information, more data, more leads.

Brow furrowing ominously, Booth leaned in, a challenging light firing in his eyes. "Okay, ace, can you tell what four-letter word I'm thinking of now? Just stop being a diva and give me the results, alright?"

Hodgins finally smiled and relented. He really couldn't fault Booth for wanting to catch the bad guys. "The soil is highly alkaline, so the body dissolved fairly quickly. That could've been a problem, as the area floods frequently. But it's a clay soil, so what it dissolved, it kept. Very poor drainage. The makeup and consistency match the residue found on the suspect's shoes. DNA isn't in yet - I'll let you know."

"There's a match. _Yes_. Now _that_ is what I wanted to hear." He tapped Hodgins on the shoulder with the edge of the case file, flashing him a brilliant grin as he stepped quickly away toward the offices. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Oh, hey Booth," he called after him. "Angela wants to get together for dinner. We were thinking Georgetown again, right around the corner from Blues Alley. It's a place called Filomena – the best Italian around. They have a killer mixed fruit cheesecake."

"Cheesecake?" Always interested in dessert, Booth paused. Better not to agree to anything until he knew where he stood with Bones. "I don't know...I have to check with Bones. I'll let ya know."

"Cool." He paused for a moment and then continued, pale blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey - if we go, afterward I'll show you the Exorcist stairs, man. Bet you've never seen them."

"Yeah, and I'm never _gonna_ see them, either. I'm not going to hell. Let's just leave that stop off the tour, okay?" Hurling a perfunctory scowl over his shoulder, he stalked off, ignoring the laughter behind him. Check with Bones. He snorted inwardly, and not without some anxiety. He definitely needed to talk with her, and about something more important than pasta and cheesecake. But his forward progress was halted yet again when Angela stepped in his path. "Oh, hey, Angela. Good to see you again."

"Yeah, you too, Booth." Quick as a flash her slender hand arrowed out, her fingers seizing his ear and twisting firmly.

"Ow! What the hell –"

"I want to talk to you." Holding on tightly, she turned and pulled him vigorously to her office, ignoring the spate of complaints and curses drifting behind her.

When she finally released him he glared at her, rubbing his throbbing lobe. "Christ! I've been here for four minutes and you're assaulting me. What is your problem?"

"Funny, that's what I wanted to know about you." Crossing her arms, she directed a look at him that did not bode well. "I've been waiting for you guys to get back from Warm Springs so I could ask you that very question. Didn't you get my message?"

"Yeah, but you know we only got back late last night. Why, is something wrong?" Alarmed, he craned his neck, gazing through the window in search of his partner. Only the direst of situations would have caused her to go at him like that. "Did Bones tell you something? She _is_ here, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's here, but she hasn't said anything. She's just walking around like the living dead."

Thinking of his own stressful, sleepless night, he sighed inwardly and quietly flexed his dominant hand. "We're just tired, that's all. Lack of sleep." More like lack of anything except pacing and brooding, memorizing his floorboards and punching the wall once. Or twice.

"No. You're not getting it. Do you remember what I said when you asked me to butt out?" She punctuated her question with a sharp slap on his bicep. "I told you I would give the two of you some space to work this out for yourselves."

Another slap, this time to his stomach, had him backing up one startled step, hands lifted in supplication. "Angela –"

"But I also told you that you _better_ not mess it up. So imagine my surprise when Brennan tells me that you two lunkheads _wagered a_ _bet_."

_Shit_, was all he could think. He'd stepped in it good and proper. He'd really been hoping that she wouldn't find out about that. "Well, you know, it was spur of the moment...it just kinda _happened_ –"

If anything, his admission only added fuel to her fire. "Oh, _can it_, Booth. I don't want to hear it. You and Bren have made a royal mess out of this situation. I suppose I should have expected it - well, I _kind of_ expected it from her, because for all her logic she can be incredibly irrational when it comes to the heart. But _you_?" A disdainful expression graced her lovely face. "I expected _much_ better from you." Incensed, she planted her finger squarely on his tie, jabbing at him until he stepped back yet again. "I'm telling you, Booth, you had better fix this or I will _hurt_ you."

From what he'd found out about her, he was now only too well aware that she was fully capable of doling out pain where it was merited. He wouldn't have blamed her if she decked him right now, truthfully. "It was stupid, I know." He paused a moment, studying her intently. He simply had to tell her. Tormented since Bones had revealed her past to him, he was desperate for some kind of outlet for all his rage and worry. "Angela. Bones...she told me." As rapidly as her aggravation had flared up it was extinguished before his eyes, the quick transition somehow leaving her looking younger and more vulnerable than he thought he'd ever seen her.

"She...told you." Clearly unwilling to betray her friend's most painful secrets, Angela plastered what she hoped was a blank look on her face. She had to make sure.

"Yes. She told me everything. Even about Rafiq." He saw the emotions flash across her face. It was clear from her reaction to the name that not only did she know everything, she hadn't expected Bones to tell him while they were away.

One quick, hard shudder ran through her. "Oh, Booth." Immediately swamped with concern for both of them, she grabbed at his arm. "I'm so sorry. But I'm glad she told you. You needed to know everything." Her eyes widened suddenly, her fingers tightening convulsively on his wrist. "Oh God – did she end things between you?"

"No." Thank God for that. He'd been terrified, more terrified than he cared to remember, that she would be gone when he got here this morning, off on some excursion or trip or whatever-the-hell excuse she could find. Only by sheer force of will had he managed to keep from calling and checking on her. Or worse, finding some lame excuse to show up early and seek her out. The fear had congealed icily in his gut all morning, only easing now that Angela had confirmed her presence at the lab. "No, she didn't do that." Not yet, anyway. He could only hope it stayed that way.

"She isn't happy. She's been sending out signals I could read from a mile away." She took a moment to look more closely at him. His suffering was rawly evident, and she knew without a doubt that he cared. Perhaps it was time to get involved a bit. "So...this bet...please, Booth, explain this to me. Why did you do it?"

He sighed; a long, guilty burst of air. "I just wanted a chance to show her what a real relationship was like." Encouraged by her sympathetic silence, he continued. "Look, I don't give a shit about the bet, and I told her so this weekend. As far as I'm concerned, it could be over right now."

"Did she agree?"

"She didn't really say." As he took in her raised eyebrows and pursed lips, he nodded and sighed. "Look - I screwed up. This goddamn thing is out of control. But I'm going to fix it. _We're_ going to fix it." Swamped by a sudden wave of weariness, he sank down onto the couch behind him. He'd gone this far. He might as well keep going. "I have to talk to you. You're her friend, and you're always honest about stuff like this, so…" Uncomfortable sharing his inner thoughts with anyone other than Bones, he fought to say the words. Hazarding a glance at her, he was relieved to see that she was listening intently, no sign of anything but caring on her face. "I have a problem." Quiet for a long moment, he finally began speaking again. "Something is bothering me."

Immediately swamped with sympathy for him, she dropped down next to him. He was clearly having a hard time with this. "Tell me."

He struggled to express himself. "Angela, I'm just not sure we're after the same thing, Bones and I. Does she want me physically? Yeah, she does – she's made that pretty obvious. Is it more than that? I'm not so sure. And that makes it harder. It can't ever be just sex, Angela. I couldn't handle that. There has to be something, some type of real connection. But I won't be able to manage if things go badly and she's out of my life, either, so I feel like I'm left with one alternative." His somber, thoughtful eyes met hers. "If sex is all we can be, then maybe we're better off the way we were."

She leaned closer. "I understand how hard this can be. It always is when feelings are involved. But you don't have all the information. You're not taking into account all of the variables. For instance," she continued, when he looked at her questioningly, "you have the input of her best friend...and I definitely have some input. I'm not going to betray any confidences. I would never do that to her, and I think I've proven that. But I can give you some insight into her motives and behaviors. I will tell you that I think it's definitely more than 'just sex' for her, regardless of what she may say to you or me. Bren's no shrinking violet, Booth. You've seen that for yourself. She'd take the chance, if it was truly just about sex, because it wouldn't really hurt if you said no. She would've made a move by now, line or no line."

He flicked one quick, inscrutable look at her.

"Yes, I know about the line; and no, she didn't tell me. I have my ways...but that doesn't matter now. She's hesitating. She's unsure of how to proceed, for the very reason that it isn't just the physical. I don't think she realizes it, though. Either that or she isn't ready to admit it. That may be why you've been getting mixed signals from her. Don't give up on her, Booth." Pleased to see his characteristic determination returning, she tapped his knee with her knuckles and stood. "Hey, I kept saying there was definitely sexual tension between the two of you, and I was right about that, wasn't I?"

Feeling marginally better for having shared his worries, he chuckled and stood as well. "Yeah. You were." He stopped her when she began to turn from him. "Thanks, Angela."

"Anytime, Booth." She turned toward the door, but hesitated and twisted to him again. "She's afraid to get hurt emotionally, Booth - but you know that. You've seen it. In my opinion, you're left with only one alternative, but it might not be the one you think." Leaning closer, her voice dropped until it was almost inaudible. "You're just going to have to take that chance." His hand tightened around her wrist before she could step back. "What?"

"I need to talk to you about Rafiq."

"Why? What about him?" Suspicion bloomed on her face at his serious manner. "Wait. You're arresting me. Are you arresting me? You can't, Booth. It was self-defense. Well, maybe not self-defense, but it was friend defense. I had to do something. Besides, I know my rights. The statute of limitations –" Whatever fact she'd been about to argue regarding the law was suddenly lost against his shoulder as he yanked her to him.

"Thank you. You protected her. You stood for her." He held her tightly, pressing her to his heart. "You fought for her when she wouldn't fight for herself. You're her family."

How stupid she was. Eyes welling, jaw clenching, she returned his embrace with all the strength she had. She should have known he would understand. Of all people, he would understand what family meant. "Yes. She's family. _No one_ hurts my family and gets away with it."

After a minute he allowed her to step back, smiling while she wiped her eyes. "A veiner, huh?" The faint thrum of bloodlust beating in his veins flickered briefly in his eyes before he carefully hid it. "She said it got stuck."

"Oh, yeah, down to the bone." Pausing for effect, she nonchalantly brushed at an imaginary speck of dust on her sleeve. "Probably hurt even more coming out."

"Nice shot."

"No, it wasn't." She straightened, pinning him with a savage look. "That wasn't what I was aiming for."

*****

"Here...see this, Zach...notice the damage to the femoral head." Brennan slid the bone portion under the microscope and stepped aside. "Tell me what you see."

Methodically aligning and adjusting the focus, Zach peered intently at the image. "It appears to be kerf marks from an unknown weapon or tool, possibly a hatchet or machete. I'll take a casting of the marks and try to ascertain if they are a match for the marks on the Strickland bone samples."

"Good, Zach. Let me know the minute you have the results." Spotting Booth heading in her direction, she grabbed her clipboard and intercepted him before he could pressure Zach for details. "Initial examination indicates a similarity in the marks on the femoral head. Zach is running tests now to determine if they are identical."

"That's great, Bones. I just got off the phone with Judge Oberdorfer – the soil and residue match isn't enough by itself for the warrant, so we're gonna need everything we can get. How long'll it take for this test?"

"There are several steps involved. It's going to take quite some time for Zach to finish it."

"Oh." His forward momentum brought to a screeching halt, he stopped to recollect his thoughts. "Well, can't you make him go quicker? We need to get a jump on this, Bones. Just tell him to work faster, okay?" When she only looked impassively at him he threw his hands to his sides. "What?"

"You know this can't be rushed, Booth. In order to ensure that our results are accurate, we have to take our time and use great care when testing. You already know that."

"Well yeah, but I always figured you guys just said that to piss me off. Shit. There's not a damn thing we can do until we get that warrant." Glancing at her, he quickly made up his mind. He had something to confess, and the sooner he did it the better. "Come on, let's go grab some lunch." Ready for – truthfully almost _hoping_ for - an argument or refusal from her, he was taken aback when she nodded without hesitation and spun on her heel.

"I need my coat."

*****

Booth listlessly stirred his coffee and stared at the servers bustling by, heavily laden with trays and plates and drinks. Stirred his coffee again. Fidgeted. For the first time since – well, for the first time _ever_, he wished they hadn't come to the diner. The normally reassuring din just seemed way too loud. He wanted to go somewhere quiet. If it was quiet, he could think. He could listen. He could say what he had to say, come clean without interruption.

"Booth..."

Startled out of his musings, he quickly met her eyes and just as quickly looked away. God, this was a mistake. He shouldn't have decided to do this in the middle of their workday.

"Booth?"

He looked at her again. Angela was right. She did look tired. Tired but indescribably beautiful, caught in the brilliant sunlight streaming through the plate glass. He watched a dust mote settle on the sweep of her cheek and fought the urge to caress it away with his thumb. He was stalling. There was no point in denying it. There was also no telling how she would react to what he had to say, but that didn't negate the need to say it. "Yeah, Bones."

Menu extended, she was staring curiously at him. "Are you going to order something?"

"What? Oh, yeah, lemme see." Gingerly thumbing through the sticky plastic pages, he chose at random, firing off a quick order to the hovering waitress. "Just get me the, uh, Jungle Burger with fries and a bowl of the Minestrone." Maybe he could just pass off his mood as preoccupation with the case.

"Are you all right?"

He knew that tone. She was worried about him. That she was concerned for him at this moment made his heart twist painfully. All he'd wanted to do was treat her the way she'd deserved. But really, in the end he'd done just what all those other bastards had done. "I'm fine. Listen...I need to tell you something."

"Booth...what?"

"I have a confession to make. I...wasn't entirely truthful to you the other day." He continued when she merely watched him quietly, her eyes troubled and unsure. "Last Sunday, when I brought you home. I told you I had to go in to the office."

"I remember. You said you had to work on the case." When he didn't immediately confirm, she frowned at him. A beat, and she saw it. In his eyes, in his slightly sagging shoulders. A burning heat filled her chest, and she fought the urge to wince at the sensation. "You didn't have to work on the case."

"No." There it was again – that cautious, wary expression. It had been present on her face during the entire drive back from Warm Springs, mixed with exhaustion and sorrow.

"I don't understand. Why did you say that if it wasn't true? What's going on?"

"Nothing. I promise, nothing is going on. I just..." _Just get it over with, idiot._ "It was obvious that you wanted to be alone that morning. I could tell that you expected me to put up a fight. So I kinda just _said_ I had to go to the office."

"I'm confused. You didn't actually go to the office?"

"No, I went. I did some paperwork, got the Strickland file in better order. Look...the point, Bones, is that I manipulated you. And after what you said in Warm Springs, I realized how wrong that was. I treated you just like you were treated in the past. You deserve so much better than that. So...I guess I just wanted you to know that it happened. And that I'm sorry." Miserable with guilt, he dejectedly resumed stirring his half-empty coffee cup and waited for the explosion. Or worse, for the sound of her chair pushing backward as she left him.

Conflicting emotions bouncing within her, she looked probingly at him, carefully digesting the information she'd just been given. He was avoiding her stare, and it was obvious even to her the extent of his mental distress. While part of her wanted to back away from the table and run, another, fairer part somewhere deep inside her wanted to soothe away his pain. She forced herself to assess the information she'd been given, and after a long, thoughtful moment, spoke quietly. "I don't believe that you are like them, Booth. While I'm unhappy that you felt the need to lie to me, it would seem that your motives were...somewhat altruistic. Even though it was still wrong."

He dropped his head, staring glumly at the scarred Formica. "I don't want to treat you like they did."

Her logical mind began working furiously. "I don't believe that is the case. Tell me why you did it."

"I told you – I could see you needed some space."

"And you gave it to me. Did you _want _to let me go home by myself?"

"No, I didn't." Might as well admit it all, he thought morosely. "Truth is, I didn't want you to leave my place at all."

"So what you did...in actuality it didn't benefit you."

"Well...I...I kinda wanted to keep you off-guard. I didn't want to be predictable." When her hand covered his, her slender fingers wrapping around his wrist, he looked up in surprise.

"Booth." Satisfied he was paying attention, she spoke as methodically and convincingly as she could. "If you are in any way predictable, it's in that you are always kind, and that you always lead with your heart. Although that approach is not always recommended, it sets you apart from anyone I've ever met. So while your methods might have been regrettable, I believe your intentions, in the end, were honorable." She paused a moment, on her face a curious mix of reluctance and resolve. "And perhaps my strong resistance to your romantic overtures was somewhat causal in this situation."

"You know, Bones...I never wanted to play games with you...I just need a special connection with you, you know? It's important to me."

"We _do_ have a special connection, Booth. We're partners and we're sleeping together." Her instinctive move to retreat was abruptly halted when he flipped his hand over and twined his fingers with hers. She tugged, but he held firm.

"Don't do that again, Bones. You know that's not the connection I'm talking about here." God, how to make his point without creating an even bigger clusterfuck? The problem, he realized suddenly, wasn't that she didn't understand. It was that she didn't _want_ to understand. Didn't want to _know_. But hiding wasn't going to help anything. Neither was manipulation. They needed to be honest with each other. "What we have, what I want, is new, but it builds on the connection we already have."

Again she pulled her hand away; again he held on to her. Frustration suddenly filled her, and her desperate eyes met his. "Why do you push so hard? Why don't you ever give up? I haven't made this easy for you. _I'm _not easy. I'm difficult. I don't trust anyone and I'm not sure that I ever will."

"You want to know why I keep trying?" He drew her hand closer and tightened his grip. "I'm not gonna let you push me away, Bones, and I'm not gonna give up on you, because _I __know_ you're worth it. Every bit of this, every minute I have with you? It's all worth it."

"You don't know that."

Her reply was so soft and uncharacteristically meek that he wasn't sure he'd heard her right at first. But when he looked at her, really _looked_, he knew he wasn't mistaken. "Bones..."

"You _don't_ know that, Booth. You can't possibly know that. I can't promise you what you want. I can't even promise you I'll still be here tomorrow. I never give anything of myself. I can't. How can all this struggle possibly be worth it for you?"

She was wrong. She offered up who she was all the time. At least she did when she was with him. Some surprising bits, some expected, but each bit another piece to the Temperance Brennan puzzle. Even this weekend, as painful as it had been to hear...she'd trusted him enough to tell him about it, to share her pain. She fascinated him. Who she was called to him. And because of that he simply had no choice in the matter. He had to find out everything about her. He had to _know_ her. Angela was right. There really was no other option for him but to continue, no matter what happened. Even if he only continued as her friend. "I'm telling you that it's worth it for me. You're family, Bones. Family, _real family_, sticks. No matter what. Do you believe that? Do you believe _me_?"

She wanted to, she realized suddenly. She wanted to believe in what he was saying, wanted it furiously. But the fear was still riding high in her, and she instinctively shied away from the prospect of more pain. "My family didn't stick, Booth. They didn't stay. No one ever stayed. I couldn't hold them. I had them for fifteen years and it still wasn't enough to hold them. How _can_ I believe it?"

"Temperance. Look at me." He jiggled their joined hands until her eyes lifted to his. "This is hard for you. I know it hurts. But I'm telling you now – I will never leave you. I promise you that I will be here for you, no matter what. I couldn't be anywhere else. You don't have to agree, or pretend that you believe me, or even humor me. But...gather your evidence, okay? See, every day, that I'm here, that I haven't left. That I've got your back. That I'm your friend. You don't have to promise me anything. I just want you to think about what I've said, and _see me_." Throat working convulsively, pale eyes darker than dark, she stared at him. He waited quietly, knowing she had to be the one to make the next move. He didn't know how else to tell her how he felt without scaring her even more. He could only hope what he'd said was enough.

"Booth, I..." She couldn't help but see the resolve in every line of his face and body. He was giving her so much, fighting so hard. "...I'll try."

The wave of relief that swamped him was almost overwhelming. He'd been so afraid that he'd ruined his chances with her. Giving in to his earlier urge, he leaned forward and traced his knuckles along her cheek, and was rewarded when she leaned slightly into his hand. "Thank you."


	18. Chapter 18

**As I told a friend tonight, I've decided that the actual definition of writing is 'dragging the words out of your skull'. VERY painful. Between the holidays, and some health dramas with my family, I've had neither the time or the creative impulse to write. Once again I am in the position of apologizing for the delay in posting this chapter. But I can promise you this: I WILL finish this story. It will absolutely not be left undone. To me that is unforgivable. So, if you can find it in your hearts to wait for me, there will most definitely be rewards. I hope you all had good holidays, and got to spend fun time with your families. Thanks so much for reading, and for persevering.**

**THE BET**

No new crime happening was a _good _thing. Meandering aimlessly over to the mass spectrometer, Angela fiddled with the controls and swiped imaginary dust off of the casing. She knew it was good. But the problem with having nothing to do was that she had nothing to _do_. Casting her gaze about for Jack, she wished for the hundredth time that she could lose herself in a good landscape. But her painting had deserted her lately. Even now, the brilliant white stretch of canvas on her easel snidely taunted her every time she went in her office. She gave a brief thought to torching it and all her other supplies but refrained from following through. She just needed to stop obsessing over it – her inspiration would come back. It _had_ to come back. If it didn't...well, she could always burn it all next week. Craning her neck, she spotted Zach on the platform and set off briskly in that direction. If Zach was there, Jack would undoubtedly be close by. And chances were that they'd be arguing, which could be a lot of fun. The two of them were extremely amusing when they bickered. They were like the full-nerd version of Booth and Brennan sometimes. Without the romance, of course. Snickering at the bizarre mental picture, she caught sight of Jack's curly head bent over the desk and mounted the stairs. "Hey, Jack."

"Angela." Glancing down at his papers one last time, Jack looked over, his eyes lighting up as she approached. "What're you up to?"

"Nothing. Zippo. A big, fat, useless and most likely non-golden goose egg. You?"

"Not much." He swiveled on his stool to face her. "Nothing special, anyway. God, what I wouldn't give for some soil samples or diatoms to analyze. Where're Brennan and Booth with the goods?"

"Done. They have enough evidence to make an arrest, but the suspect went underground. They have surveillance teams watching his home and work in case he shows up for any reason. The evidence part is finito. And they haven't gotten any new cases yet."

Hodgins heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Something'll come up – something always does. Hell, we work in Washington D.C. Even as we speak, a Republican is probably shooting a Democrat. It won't be long. Meanwhile, are we set for Filomena?"

"I've been trying to pin Bren down for another date, but no luck so far." She pouted and folded her arms. "I'll ask her again tomorrow." Catching sight of the papers and scientific-looking supplies, she frowned and moved closer, peering doubtfully down at his work. "Wait - I thought you said you had nothing to do. What _is_ all this stuff?"

He looked dismayed for a quick moment. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just making a Punnett Square."

"Hmm. And what exactly is a Punnett Square – or do I even want to know?"

He rolled the stool closer, sliding his hands slowly up her legs to rest on her hips. "I'm trying to determine the probability of offspring having a particular genotype."

"Oh yeah?" Throwing him a lopsided grin, she leaned down and briefly pressed her lips against his. "I have absolutely no clue what that means, Jack."

His grin only widened, gaining a particularly crafty air. "It has to do with maternal and paternal alleles. Basically...plant parents."

"Plant parents? Okay, now I'm even _more_ confused." She glanced to her right. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"

"Of course." Pausing in the middle of preparing a slide, Zach looked at her with mild surprise. "You don't?"

She rolled her eyes lovingly and pursed her lips. "Um..._no_, Zach. I don't have a clue."

"It's really quite simple. Dominant alleles mask recessive alleles, thus affecting the appearance of the offspring -"

"So, you were saying before that you're happy with the way things are going, then?" Jack interposed, shooting a glare at Zach as he hastily changed the subject. "Between Booth and Dr. B, I mean."

She dropped her hands to his shoulders. "I'm telling you, Jack, she is completely different now. Well - not _completely_. She's even more focused than she was before. I mean, you've seen how she's been lately."

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he grinned. "Have I. I can barely keep up with her these days – she's working harder than she ever did before. "

"I don't understand why you aren't able to handle the workload." Zach piped up helpfully. "I don't have a problem keeping up with Dr. Brennan's requests."

"That's because you're a cybernetic being and are incapable of working human hours every day _or_ participating in a normal conversation."

Zach stared at him and blinked, unoffended.

"Jack! Stop it! Be nice." Frowning, Angela crossed her arms and lifted a brow at him. "Yes, she is working very hard – when she's here. But she doesn't work for as many hours as she used to – and it's all for a good reason. She's leaving at a more normal time these days, either to meet Booth or because he's hot on her tail, chasing her out of here."

"Not all the time, though. She still stays late, babe."

"Yeah, but only when she _has_ to. Big difference. And when she does, you-know-who almost always comes wandering in at some point with takeout and parks on her couch so they can leave together. It's positively _domestic_, Jack."

"Domestic? Really?" He raised his eyebrows as he looked up at her. "It doesn't sound very domestic to me."

"Not domestic in the _traditional_ sense, genius. For Brennan to put up with him hanging out almost every time she works late? That he even _knows_ which nights are her late nights? Big changes, Jack. _Big_."

"Ah. I don't know. You heard that fight they had yesterday."

An amused smile stretched across her face. "Well, yeah. Everybodyheard that fight yesterday. As a matter of fact, it's entirely possible that the state of Maryland heard that fight yesterday."

"So, you really think everything's fine after that?"

Her hand flapped in instant dismissal. "Oh please. That was just another one of their squabbles."

"Yeah, but it was pretty fierce, you have to admit."

"Nope, doesn't mean anything. Fights are their specialty, Jack. Sixty seconds after they stopped shouting, she was laughing at Booth's impression of the new intern in Carolyn's office. They _need _those fights. They need that honesty. It might kill other couples but it works for them. They both always keep everything so internalized. If they didn't go head to head, they would just gnaw on their emotions until it destroyed what they have. No, the way they've been acting lately is just about right."

"I guess whatever was bothering her before they went away is okay now, huh?"

"Umm," she replied noncommittally, turning to the computer to pull up the newest imaging program. That was the _just about_ in their _just about right_. Things were back on a mostly even keel between her favorite crime-fighting duo – but nothing had actually been resolved. Although Brennan had trusted Booth enough to tell him about her past, she'd closed up tight as a bank vault afterward As far as she knew – and since Angela hadn't dared to ask Booth, that wasn't very far – she hadn't broached the subject since. And as for Booth himself...well, he appeared to be walking a razor-thin line, and seemed willing to stay there for now. She sighed as she entered her password. That meant that he probably wasn't pushing Brennan. She couldn't really blame him. He didn't have much of a choice right now. Hell, she wasn't about to bring up the subject, either. She didn't always know when to push her friend and when to wait, but she could hardly miss the _No Trespassing_ signs all around Brennan. Booth clearly hadn't missed them. If anything, he had become more adept than her at knowing when Brennan needed advice and when she needed space. She was much too raw right now to be guided or advised or shepherded. No. Best to let things settle down a bit and then see what happened. They both needed a little time. A self-deprecating grin flirted at the corner of her mouth. _She _needed a little time as well – time off for good behavior. Or...nosy behavior. Or was it _less_ nosy behavior? Shrugging, she updated the system and logged off.

"Bones!"

They all turned as a unit to see Booth jogging toward the platform. The minute he realized she wasn't among them a familiar annoyed frown appeared on his handsome face.

"She didn't answer her phone. Where is she?"

Hodgins stepped forward, eyes dancing mischievously. "I don't know, man. Around here somewhere. What's going on? Maybe I can help."

In a fraction of a second the frown morphed into a scowl. "Yeah – if I need someone to wrestle a microbe to the ground and subdue it I'll let you know. I need Bones. Where was she last?"

"Her office."

The minute the words left Jack's mouth Booth was wheeling on his heel and striding toward the offices, nearly-visible energy crackling all around him.

Hodgins swung around, smiling in satisfaction. "That was fun."

"You know, one of these days you're going to tease him too much and he's going to hurt you. And it'll be all your fault. Don't you know not to bait him when he's like that?"

"Well, he does it to us all the time – he needs a little payback now and then. You know, it just occurred to me – did you notice he never comes in here like that looking for one of _us_? It's always Dr. B."

"Well _really_, Jack. Who else would it ever be? Like a bull to the red, baby." She grinned and reached out, swinging his hand back and forth when he laced his fingers with hers. "Now, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?"

"How about the Bombay Club? Their Ajwaini Trout is out of this world." Raising her hand, he dropped a kiss on her knuckles. "We'll get a table on the patio; watch the people in Lafayette Park..."

"Ooh, that sounds good. Make it a table for three."

His easy, relaxed smile morphed into one of bemusement. "Three? "

"Yep. Zach's coming with us." Readily anticipating his impending protest, she pressed her lips to his briefly. "He doesn't get out enough. I want to break him free of the guest house - and that home lab you built - for the evening."

"What's with the sudden concern for Zach?"

"He's family." Her dark eyes twinkled warmly at him. "You have to take care of family."

"Okay, Bones, let's go, we gotta go now." Hurrying into her office, Booth pulled Brennan up from her chair and away from her desk, completely disrupting her activities. "Chop chop..."

"Booth! What are you doing?" She twisted away from him and moved to sit down again. But his hands gripped her shoulders and he spun her back before she finished her sentence.

"We got a tip on Lederson's whereabouts, we gotta get there now or we'll miss him. This is our chance, Bones, we're gonna catch this bastard." Grabbing her jacket in one hand and her upper arm in the other, he began herding her toward the door.

"Stop it, Booth!" She swatted at him, but it was like slapping at a redwood. "I have work open on my computer, I need to save it and shut down –"

"Zach!" Waving impatiently, Booth beckoned the young man over, glaring until he began moving more quickly. "Go save Bones' work and turn off her computer. We've got some _bad guys_ to catch."

Well used to Booth's ways, Zach nodded obediently and began to move away but was brought up short by his boss' slender hand on his arm. "Yes, Dr. Brennan?"

"Please email the report on my findings regarding the Tsimshian skeleton to Dr. Elias in the Arctic Studies Center, and ensure that a hard copy is sent –"

"– in duplicate." Finishing her sentence, Zach fluttered along behind her like a kite as Booth drew her swiftly toward the exit. "I'll make sure that the report is on his desk within the hour. Will there be anything else, Dr. Brennan?"

Digging in her heels, she firmly elbowed Booth and finally won a moments' respite. "I need you to secure the bones and return them to Arctic Studies by the end of the day. This skeleton is a very important find so make sure you take them there yourself. I don't want the interns losing another sternum in transit." Satisfied that she'd given him enough instruction, she at last yielded to Booth's relentless tugging and followed him out of the lab at a brisk clip as they began an intense discussion on the case.

From their vantage point on the platform, Hodgins snorted with amusement and turned to Angela. "You're right. They're behaving completely normally."

"They are, definitely." But she wondered how long that could last. Certainly not much longer. Brennan was trying, and she was certainly much better than in the beginning, but she had a ton of old, stinky luggage to deal with. Sooner or later – most likely sooner – they would have to face it, and what they had between them. The love and the fear and the need. All of it. Hopefully they would come out in one piece – and as one unit - in the end.

"According to the surveillance team Lederson pulled up at about three-fifteen or so and parked in the back. He entered through the front door carrying a really heavy duffel bag. Once he went in he didn't come back out, and he pulled all the blinds."

"Was he driving the black Nissan?" Eyes bright, Brennan gripped the door as the Tahoe yawed wildly around a particularly tight corner. "Was he alone?"

"He appeared to be alone. But he's probably got a gun on him, and he's almost definitely expecting a fight." His intense eyes lasered to her as he spared her a glance. "This one's gonna be rough, Bones. I want you to stay in the truck."

"What?" When he didn't answer, she felt her frustration begin to rise. "I don't understand. I always come in with you. This is what we do."

"I know, but if he's as dangerous as I think he is, then it's gonna be ugly. I don't want you anywhere near this guy."

Her ire began to stir, crackling in the air between them. "Why did you even come and get me if you didn't want me to help?"

"Well, we're partners. But I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not some shrinking flower, Booth. I know how to take care of myself."

"Violet, Bones. Shrinking violet, okay, and I know you can handle yourself in a fight. But this could be bad and I don't want to take any chances."

"You haven't done this since the day we found Donovan Decker. Why now? This is nothing like that. It's one person, alone - "

"– and he's probably armed to the teeth. I don't want you to get hurt. I couldn't stand –" he broke off, wishing he could bite his tongue in half. The sudden rigidity of her body told him that she hadn't missed his slip.

"What?" Incredulous, she stared at him, waiting for him to repeat himself. When he didn't speak and deliberately avoided looking at her she knew she'd heard right. "Are you trying to protect me because of our relationship outside of work?" For another long moment he focused intently on the road, navigating a particularly snarled intersection. Finally he glanced over, dark eyes cutting quickly to her and away, and she knew. It was as good as a confession. "You don't have that right. I'm not helpless and you're not my guardian," she spat out, the nervous energy that flared in her finding an outlet in quick, hot anger. "The fact that we're having sex doesn't give you the right to shield me from danger."

He had to find a way out of this, and quickly. They needed to concentrate on the case, and her anger was sparking his own. "We're partners, Bones. We protect each other."

"Really? So we're partners, and that's why you brought me – and it's also why you're trying to keep me from acting like your partner. How am I supposed to protect _you_ if you shut me away in the truck? Partnership goes both ways, Booth. You agreed to that. You _agreed_."

A misty red haze obscured his vision and he rounded on her furiously. "Well, what _does_ give me the right?" How about the fact that I –" Aghast, he again bit off what he'd almost said. The siren blared rudely in the sudden silence between them, seeming to echo and mock the warning going off, too late, in his head. There was no point in cursing or yelling or further argument. There was no time. He gripped the wheel all the tighter and shot onto the Beltway, not bothering to look at her. He knew what he'd see.

"I'm going in with you."

He ignored her thick, clipped tones and fixed his eyes on the road. "Fine."

BBBBB

Booth watched the streetlights flick past the windows as he drove slowly through the night. Turning stiffly, he hazarded a quick, concerned look at his partner. She seemed to be all right physically, at least. She'd said she was fine, but sometimes it was hard to be sure. She always said she was fine. "You sure you're okay, Bones?"

Her dark head remained motionless, her attention seemingly riveted on the passing traffic. "I'm fine, Booth."

Biting off a sigh, he tried again. "Masters said he'd finish up what paperwork was left so we could take a couple of sick days. I can't say I mind – it'll be nice to take a few days off, get flat and just sleep." The faint purple shadow of a bruise on her temple drew his attention and he scrutinized her for another moment. "Maybe you should go to the doctor, get checked, you know? Just to make sure you're okay."

As he spoke she finally turned to him, her eyes black with worry and exhaustion. "I said I'm fine." Long, sooty lashes framed accusing eyes. "I'm not the one who was hit by a car."

_Shit_. He should've known. He'd been afraid she was still angry about their earlier argument. He took a brief moment to be grateful that he hadn't said the words. It would have been the worst possible timing, and she was still clearly not ready for them. Somewhere down the road that might cause him a world of trouble. But the scene at Lederson's house had been even hairier than he'd feared, and it had completely dominated all of their attention and energy. It was bad enough that Lederson had been loaded for bear and was far from prepared to surrender. But what had been worse was that the three other ex-cons that had been holed up in the house overnight – surprise, surprise – were also not happy to see the FBI. Fidgeting again, since his injuries were keeping him from sitting for long with any real comfort, he hastened to reassure her. "C'mon, Bones, I told you. It was just a glancing blow. I'll be a little sore for a couple of days, that's all."

"You were _hit by a car_."

"Yeah, but just a little bit. I'm good, I promise. Hey, even the medics said there were no serious injuries, and they gave me a full checkup on scene. Just bumps and bruises, and a little road rash." Hoping to diffuse the tension between them he grinned comfortingly over at her. Without answering she frowned and turned back to the black window, as she had so often in the past when her thoughts were weighing heavily upon her. Mood plummeting, his smile morphed into a worried, wearied grimace. Unable to help himself, he tried again. "By the way, that was pretty crazy, the way you went all karate postal on that third guy."

"The FBI surveillance on the house was completely ineffectual. There should only have been one man, not four men with weapons." She jerked to face him, a rush of heat shooting from her eyes for the first time since they'd wrapped up the collar. "And as that 'third guy' was about to fracture your skull with a tire iron, you should be glad I did it."

"Oh, believe me, I'm glad...you saved my bacon. Thanks, Bones." He waited for her to ask the inevitable Bones question. Hoped for it. But after a brief look at the cuts and bruises on him she wordlessly faced away from him again.

Several minutes later he pulled up in front of her building, bringing the truck to as gentle a halt as possible. "Okay Bones, this is your stop. You should go up and get some rest. Maybe take a long, hot bath first."

She flipped a quiet stare back to him, and he wondered at the considering light in her eyes as she studied him. Hand braced on the door handle, bags in hand, she finally spoke.

"You should come upstairs with me."

"Thanks Bones, but I just want to go home and pass out for a while. This has been one hell of a day." She was acting weird, and he didn't want to make things even more uncomfortable by asking to stay. But she clearly had other plans. He'd barely finished his sentence before she spoke again.

"Your muscles have stiffened considerably, you yawned repeatedly during the drive here, and you started to fall asleep at the last traffic light."

"What?" How could she possibly know about that, when she'd done everything _but_ look at him the whole time? "I did not, Bones. I'm doing great. You don't need to worry about me." His cheerful grin was interrupted by yet another huge yawn, and he ended up looking at her sheepishly. "Really, I'm okay to drive."

"No." Her answer was immediate and brooked no argument. "You're tired and need rest. The most logical course of action is for you to stay and sleep here tonight."

"Bones..." Even as he opened his mouth to argue, he saw her brow wrinkle stubbornly and realized she was prepared to quarrel endlessly over this. The hell with it. He was just too tired to fight. But he could at least make it easier on her. "All right. If you're sure you don't mind, I'll just crash on the couch and drive home in the morning."

Momentarily satisfied with his compliance, she grabbed his rucksack out of the back seat and dragged it into the front. "Go ahead and park. I'll wait for you."

BBBBB

"Is that better?"

Booth carefully flexed his arm, breathing a tentative sigh of relief when his gauze-wrapped elbow only sent out a mild distress signal. "Tons better. Thanks, Bones. It's not rubbing wrong at all now."

"It's no wonder it was bothering you – the paramedic wrapped your wound in entirely the wrong way. Bandaging a joint is an extremely complex undertaking." She thrust a blue-capped bottle imperiously toward him. "You should take some painkillers. They'll help you sleep."

"Thanks, Bones," he said again, palming the pills she offered and tossing them back with a gulp of water. "But I really don't think anything could keep me awake tonight." He followed her out into to living room, awkwardly digging through his bag for his extra pair of sweats until she pushed his hand aside and fished them out herself. After a short, hot shower, he limped back in again, avoiding her gaze as he made his stiff-legged way across the room. "Shower's all yours, Bones. I'm gonna hit the sack."

"I still think you should take my bed, Booth. You're extremely sore, and your frame is much too large for you to stretch out satisfactorily. You need plenty of room in order to get comfortable. The couch may only make things worse."

"I don't care where I land as long as I can land and it's not on the floor." Booth heaved the duffel onto the floor next to the couch, carefully concealing just how badly the motion hurt. "The couch'll do me just fine, Bones." It really would, too. Even now he could feel the waves of fatigue rippling over him. He didn't dare tell her just how bad a hit the suspect's car had given him. He'd flown through the air so far that he'd had almost enough time to recite the alphabet. Landing on the grass of the side yard was the only thing that had kept his injuries from being life-threatening. Between the car, and the fact that the suspect's house had been full of very feisty accomplices, he could barely move. If she knew how much discomfort he was in he was sure he'd find himself an unwilling passenger on a fast trip to the hospital. He didn't want to go to the hospital. He didn't want to go anywhere now. He just wanted to get _down_.

She appeared doubtful, hesitating and scanning him carefully. "If you're sure...I could easily take the couch and be quite content."

"No. I swear, this is fine. You still have that big blue quilt?" The cushions welcomed him with open arms as he achingly lowered himself down and closed his eyes, not even waiting for her to return with the bedding. He must have dropped off instantly, because he woke to the feel of her hands gently maneuvering his head onto the pillow. "Mmm, thanks."

"You can stop thanking me now, Booth. "

"Unh-uh. Can't. Feels good." The soft cotton of the quilt whispered over him, and he dimly registered the unexpected sensation of her cool fingers dusting across his forehead. He wished it was her mouth. "Lips," he mumbled, afraid she wouldn't understand. Apparently she hadn't understood, or perhaps she hadn't heard, because she began to move away from him. Her voice sounded again, but he was fading, and although he tried to listen it all washed away as he floated off into oblivion.

"Goodnight, Booth." Swaying slightly, her body now sagging with exhaustion, she slowly made her way down the hall to the bathroom. Her customary neatness for once deserted her. Pants and shirt carelessly hit the floor and she climbed into the shower, standing for several long moments under the punishingly hot spray with one weary arm propped against the tiles. Only when the water had cooled significantly did she stir herself and step out onto the rug. Damp hair swept carelessly back behind her ears, she listlessly toweled herself dry and drew an old t-shirt over her head. To be certain Booth didn't need anything, she paused in the hallway to listen, but the apartment was silent and at long last she crawled under the covers, body twitching fitfully under mocha-colored sheets in the darkness.

Time passed. The apartment was dark and silent, the sounds of traffic on the street being filtered into nothing more than a dull rumble. No phones rang, no voices spoke. In the bedroom, she shifted restlessly and stared at the ceiling. The patterns changed; the lights and shadows constantly morphing into new and different abstract pictures. But none of them was capable of bringing forth sleep. Hands fisting, she curled on her side and dragged the sheet over her head. But a few stuffy moments later she shoved them away from her face and pulled in a big lungful of the slightly chilly air in the room. She watched the digital clock, her eyes witnessing the slow change in time. Two o'clock. Three o'clock. Somewhere in the distance a siren blared as it traversed the city. In an instant she was on her feet, slowly pacing back and forth in front of the door as if it was the gate to a nocturnal cage, and the walls barred witnesses to her passage. The cold air in the room was ignored as she circled past the too-large bed and shuttered window. Suddenly her head cocked and she waited, straining to hear something unheard. A shift in the air or perhaps a faint whisper of sound. The bedroom door brushed silently open, bumping gently against the doorstop and momentarily masking the faint sound of her halting footsteps padding down the hall.

Drifting, Booth dreamed, his mind replaying the events of the day. But in his dream when he asked her to kiss him she did, her cool lips pressing soothingly against his brow. He reveled in the sensation, knowing somehow that it wasn't real but pretending it was anyway. Her caressing mouth trembled against his jaw and something in the vulnerability of it began to rouse him. He fought the waking, wanting to continue his fantasy encounter with her. But little by little he regained awareness until he was fully awake and cognizant of his surroundings.

He could still feel her lips.

He realized that she was actually leaning over him, a slender, invisible wraith. In the blackness of the room he could only feel her, but she was everywhere. Around him, next to him. Over him. Surprised, he opened his mouth to speak but her fingertips instantly halted his words. In the deft and delicate touch of her hands was a lifetime of careful examination, now brought to bear upon him. The pads and palms that every day detected the slightest raised edges on ten-thousand year-old bones now detected him. Each increase in heat was measured, each bump and cut and bruise stroked and kissed and soothed. It was almost as if she was striving to heal him with the sheer force of her will. She was mapping his injuries in the darkness, mapping him, and he was devastated by the intimacy in her actions. Her breathing was uneven, almost ragged, but her exploration remained gentle, every contact between them erasing a throbbing ache or a stinging pain. He felt her lips again, this time against the worst of his cuts, and was almost undone by the intense sensation. It was as if he had dropped into a trance and was incapable of motion or speech, unable to do anything but _feel_. Feel all the things she was unable to say. Feel everything that was in her for him.

After several long moments he thought he might be able to move. He strained to touch her, finally managing to wrap his trembling arms around her and draw her to him. She sighed and settled easily against his length, melting onto him like a balm as her head nudged into the crook of his neck. With her warmth against him the aching in his body receded even further and he willingly surrendered his hold on consciousness. In the last instant before sleep overtook him the warm perfume of her body insinuated itself in his mind, twining around him just as she was twined around him. She was forever entwined around him, and he could only be glad.

His head lolled against hers, lax and limp, but his arms remained tightly laced around her waist, keeping her close even as they slept.

**I really hope you enjoyed this chapter - Brennan's progress might be slow, but Booth seems to have an endless well of patience and hope when it comes to her. If you liked this and want to let me know, I'd be thrilled to hear from you. Thank you so much for your support!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Well, I made y'all wait about a month and a half. Better than my usual three months! Hopefully I'll post the next chapters even sooner - I really hate to keep you guys waiting! While this story is not over, we are nearing the finish line. I hope I can end the story as strongly as it began. Oh, and hopefully I can make you guys happy. That's really important to me.1**

**This chapter is kinda long - almost 7,000 words. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading all of them!** **Thank you so much for sticking with this story.**

**THE BET**

"I'm telling you, Bones, if those bony bits wind up being the husband, I like the brother-in-law for this one. Did you see the look on his face when his sister walked in the room? There's something going on there." Stepping off the elevator, he dropped his hand to her back and ushered her down the hall toward his apartment. The days off they were supposed to have taken had been yanked after only one day. Booth's plan to sabotage Brennan's writing and coerce her into a picnic at Rock Creek Park had itself been sabotaged when work reared its persistent head. A diced skeleton had turned up in the garden behind a house being renovated in Front Royal. The sheriff had remembered him and Bones from a past case and had specifically requested them. Although they'd only just finished the Lederson case the Bureau had happily tossed the new remains their way. Luckily, the day of rest they'd gotten had done him a world of good – instead of being stiff as a board he was only nursing a couple of bum spots. He'd be bandaged for a while, but that would barely slow him at all. And who was he kidding? He'd never been very good at sitting still for long.

"So you think Stuart Sutcliffe is having an incestuous relationship with his sister?"

"What? No, I don't think _that_. I just...something's going on there, is all I'm saying. Maybe the husband abused her. Maybe the brother just didn't get along with him. Anyway, as of right now he's my number one suspect." A quick snap of his fingers added emphasis to his statement. "And that is the _last_ time I'm gonna talk about this today. It's Friday. For all intents and purposes it's the weekend. We got called out to that scene at four freakin' a.m. – I am _done_ thinking about murder and motives. And I am _definitely _not going to think about mulchers in _any_ capacity." Hooking a companionable arm around her neck, he pulled her down the hall toward his apartment.

"I really should get some writing done, Booth. I lost a good portion of the day on this case, and my editor keeps asking for another chapter." She'd told him the same thing on the drive back to the District, but had agreed that they did indeed require sustenance after several hours at the crime scene. He'd surprised her when instead of stopping for a meal while en route he insisted on making lunch for her. She'd argued with him but had finally acquiesced to his wishes, worn down by his unbelievable stubbornness. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd met someone so intractable. "If we head to the lab after we eat, I can get some writing done, and we can ensure that the evidence is logged in properly."

He automatically placed his palm on her forehead as if to check her temperature. "Are you sick? I'm not going anywhere near the lab today, Bones, and neither are you. You know perfectly well that your team and my team are completely capable of handling this stage of the investigation. Until all the data is logged and notated there's nothing we can do anyway. No. No lab for us. I want to do something _way_ more enjoyable."

She sighed. He was right, at least with regard to the Jeffersonian. She hated it when he was right. They would be superfluous at the lab. It would be a waste of their time to go there at all today. Hodgins and Angela were completely autonomous in their fields, and she needed to step back from Zach a bit in order to allow him to process and analyze skeletal samples independently. In fact, one of the reasons he'd been brought on full-time was to free her up for less rudimentary tasks. He was exceedingly capable, and if he had any problems he would contact her. She focused on his last sentence and began to warm to the idea. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to relax for a short time. She could write this evening, and she had all of Sunday allocated for her book as well. And then there was the fact that Booth was still healing. If she left him to his own devices, he could very well decide to play basketball or worse, fix something mechanical. If she stayed for a while she could make sure he didn't overextend himself and perhaps worsen his injuries. "Very well. What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know. But it's the weekend, and I want to enjoy it. Specifically, I want to enjoy it with _you_." Hesitating, he gave the matter some thought. "A picnic or a matinee. Maybe we could shoot down to Mt. Vernon for the afternoon." Fumbling with the door lock, he finally coaxed the finicky deadbolt to give way and ushered her inside. Dropping his keys in the rolled clay dish Parker had made for him, he watched her covertly as she set her bag and kit on the coffee table. She was much more comfortable spending time with him than she'd been in the beginning. But there was an underlying tension that never quite disappeared. It was slowly easing since they'd come back from Warm Springs, but it wasn't gone completely. Once she'd revealed her horrible past to him, exposed all the painful details, she had immediately acted as if she'd never said anything at all. He understood that. It was a defense mechanism, and he'd done the same thing in the past. He was all too familiar with the Shutting Up Now form of self-preservation. How long it would last, well...he'd just have to wait and see. By tacit agreement neither had mentioned the night she'd come to him. He knew she was nowhere near ready for that discussion. That was okay for now. The sound of her voice brought him back from his musings, and he quickly snapped to attention.

"I've been to Mt. Vernon."

"Ah, but you've never been there with _me_." Intent on convincing her, he kept talking over his shoulder while he shrugged out of his jacket. "It's a beautiful day, it's close...oh, and I've never been there with you, so you could hold a Bonesy-type class and tell me everything you know..."

"I couldn't possibly tell you everything I know in one day, Booth. It would take several days, at least."

He quirked a brow at her. "Yeah, I know, Bones, you're a genius."

"No, that wasn't what I meant –" She stopped when she noticed the twinkle in his eye. "Oh, wait – you're joking."

"Yeah, Bones, I'm just joking. Although you _are_ a genius. Okay, so not Mt. Vernon. Well, how about a picnic –"

"I've never been to a matinee."

He stopped, his forward motion arrested mid pants-shuck. "Huh?"

"I've never been to a matinee."

He shot her a look. "I heard what you said, Bones. I just don't believe it."

She nodded emphatically, neat ponytail bobbing in time. "It's true."

"Never? Really?" Mouth gaping, he struggled to free his leg from the pants and nearly keeled over in the process. Only a hand hastily clapped onto the bureau saved him from a mortifying face plant. "Not even with your parents or Russ?"

"No. I was very focused on my studies, and there was never anything I wanted to see badly enough to go."

"Oh, come on, Bones." One leg trousered and one leg bare, he turned to her, regarding her with blatant disbelief. "You're telling me you never, not _one_ time when you were younger, went to a movie on a weekend afternoon? No", he decided crisply, "it's just not possible."

"I assure you, Booth, that that is precisely the case. I went with my family several times a year in the evening, but that was always during the week. My extracurricular projects kept me busy during the day on Saturdays and Sundays."

He began vigorously shaking his head. "Nah. No way. You must have forgotten. What about your school friends?"

"I told you. I was much too busy with all of my honors assignments to view films."

"Well, I don't know. I still think you just don't remember." He wadded up his trousers and sent them sailing into a squat black hamper in the corner of the room. "But since you're claiming ignorance of this particular tradition, that settles it. We are going to a matinee."

She settled frowning eyes upon his now-bare back, watching the muscles flex and extend as he grabbed a pair of jeans from the bureau drawer. "I don't know, Booth. What are we going to see?"

"I don't know. We'll figure that out when we get there. But we're going, and we're getting popcorn and candy and so much soda that we'll be doin' the soda dance by the time the movie's over."

She'd been against spending the afternoon with him when he'd mentioned it as they left the scene earlier. There had been a level of discomfort and stress between them since they'd returned from Warm Springs, and she'd been anxious to remove it and restore their relationship to its normal, uncomplicated state. But she hadn't known how, despite spending many hours dwelling upon it. That the awkwardness was there at all was her fault. Every time she remembered what she'd told him, the agonizing facts of her life she'd laid bare before him, she'd cringed inwardly and quickly moved on to other, less uncomfortable thoughts. Surely if she just focused on acting normally she would eventually begin feeling normal. She was displeased that the same feeling was rising in her yet again, and she determinedly put the unsettling emotions away and focused on Booth once more. He'd thrown on jeans and was donning a faded blue t-shirt with a quick, impatient shrug.

"C'mon, Bones, let's go check the listings and see what's playing."

She frowned, looking at him more closely. Without warning she was drawn in, and she watched him for a moment. Something in the pull of the fabric, the convex and concave of his form, the coil of his musculature set her on edge. Slowly she followed him out to the living room, trailing just far enough behind to be able to study the graceful economy of his stride - an economy that couldn't quite hide the physicality of his actions. The hunger that rose in her was so sudden, so raw and startling that she took a step back in automatic retreat. Hands fisting in an attempt to regain control, she forced herself to regain her ground. Something was different. If she could just figure out what it was she could move past it and enjoy the day with him. What was it? She started toward him again but misjudged the corner and came up solidly against the tray table, watching with startled confusion as it was sent bumping several inches to the side.

He looked up, surprised and then amused. "Walk much, Bones?"

Her brow creased. "I walk all the time. Why would you ask me that?"

His lips quirked slightly. "I have no idea." Taking a moment, he caught up the paper and flipped to the movie listings.

A clumsiness had overtaken her, as if she couldn't quite regulate her motions. She felt a tingling - a numbness in her fingers, her cheeks, her torso. Like a head rush but so much more pleasant. As if hypnotized, her eyes glazed and fixed on him until he was all she could see. It was more than physical desire. Deep inside, in the place where she kept uncomfortable truths she recognized that; she was familiar with the sensations that came with sexual attraction. It was more than just wanting a man. It was wanting _this_ man. It was, perhaps, even more than that but she couldn't, wouldn't recognize it. Not now. She shied away from the upsetting knowledge and embraced the simplicity of the sexual gravity between them. Foot by faltering foot she approached him until she realized with a shock that she could smell him, a heady mix of faded cologne and the mint gum he'd had earlier. Her last two steps were taken in a breathless rush and she leapt onto his back, lashing her arms and legs tightly around him.

He staggered under the unexpected assault but quickly regained his footing, craning his neck to see behind him. "Bones...what the hell?" He twisted a bit in an attempt to shake her off, even as his hands automatically moved to her legs to support her. "What are you doing?"

"I've changed my mind about our afternoon plans. I find I'm feeling exceedingly aroused." Unable to resist, she drew her tongue along the razor line of hair at the back of his neck, inhaled his scent until her head spun.

The wash of heat caused by her provocative actions was almost overwhelming. He could feel his system beginning to snap and snarl to life. "That's nice...Bones," he muttered hoarsely, "but what about the matinee?"

"We can go to the matinee later," she whispered, punctuating her words with sharp nibbling bites to the nape of his neck.

"If we go later, it won't _be_ a matinee."

"Why pay to get into a movie when you can get free admission right here?"

He choked, the combination of lust and shock at her words nearly strangling him. "What? Where the hell did you pick up that gem?"

"Not important at this moment, Booth."

Tightly riding his back, she hesitated when she inadvertently rubbed against a remaining sore spot and drove a hiss from him. Her immediate move to drop off of him was arrested when his arms flashed further back to cup her bottom and he spun them around, pinning her between the wall and the broad planes of his shoulders. The soft jersey of his shirt stretched and wrinkled between them, reminding her in no uncertain terms of the ferocious strength underneath. "Booth..."

He leaned back, grinding firmly against her. The feel of her curves pressed so tightly against him was like an electric shock, her heat and strength and proximity quickly setting him off. The hell with the movies. If she wanted to change their plans for the afternoon he wasn't about to argue with her. "Don't you dare move."

"I don't want to hurt you. Your injuries – I forgot -"

"You aren't hurting me." The press of her against his back was luxurious, erotic – but she wasn't where he needed her most. He couldn't feel enough, see enough, taste enough with her behind him. Startling a gasp from her as he boosted her higher he headed down the hall, grinning confidently when her arms slid around his neck.

The shadows deepened around them as he carried her down the windowless hallway. She didn't need the light. She didn't need to see a movie. But she needed him now, needed him so badly that such simple concerns as coordination and communication were lost to her. Helpless to resist her urges, she buried her face against his neck and indulged herself.

From her piggybacked position she wiggled and teased him, awkwardly nipping at his neck and ear until she succeeded in winning an amused growl from him. "Behave back there." When she only laughed and renewed her efforts, he stepped quickly to the bed. Her grasping hands and sinfully undulating hips tempted him, but he stayed focused. Tipping his head to grant her better access, he waited for the right moment and was rewarded when she momentarily loosened her grip. Without warning he set his feet and heaved.

One minute she was busily tormenting both him and herself; the next, she was flipping over his shoulder without any understanding of how he'd done it. The room and her stomach whirled and tipped and she landed among the soft, downy blankets with a painless thump. He was upside-down to her now – with something approaching awe she gazed dizzily up at him, her view from the new perspective both arousing and disconcerting. His shoulders seemed impossibly wide; his eyes unfathomably dark. Before she could break free of the spell his hands gripped her hem and pulled, bringing her shirt toward him and off her in an instant. Quick as a flash her bra was gone as well and with barely a break in stride his lips descended, assaulting her with a hard sucking kiss to her solar plexus. Her broken moan filled the room as she arched beneath him, flexing and straining to get even closer. He devoured her with kisses and little nipping bites until her head spun all over again, this time for a different reason. Unable to bear the sensation she reached for him, her agile fingers making quick work of his shirt and attacking the button and zipper on his jeans. With maddening precision one of his big hands found and gripped her wrists, bracketing them together against his thigh while he continued to lazily taste her sensitive, quivering skin. Finally he released her, but as her hands streaked to him he slid his fingers into her hair and leaned in, laying his lips softly on hers in an inverted embrace. Her hands stilled against him, her voracious hunger instantly silenced by his gentle caress.

"Do you know," he murmured, pausing between each feather-light brush of his mouth, "your skin is the softest thing I've ever felt? I can't stop touching it. The minute I feel it under my fingers I have to taste it. The minute I taste it I have to taste it again." Without the slightest sign of haste he captured her lips again. "How can anything feel so good?"

Gasping, she inhaled his words, raising a lazy arm to caress his cheek as an inviting smile bloomed. "Perhaps the matter requires more investigation."

He grinned back; no other invitation was needed. Moving around the corner of the bed he rolled onto the mattress, one muscled arm effortlessly scooping her up and pulling her on top of him. Silky hair and even silkier skin surrounded him immediately as she chuckled and flowed languidly against him. Feet and hands grabbed and pushed, slid and nudged until their jeans fell to the floor in a pile. Her body lay fully on his, her long limbs settling easily around him while he breathed in her delicate, feminine scent. Hands tightening on her waist, his thumbs rotated in lazy circles on her hipbones. "Yep. Still so very good." He stroked gently up her back and down past her hips, giving her a loving squeeze. "You have to tell me your secret."

His touch sent warm prickles radiating out just underneath her skin, causing rings of warm pleasure to ripple outward across her pooling calm. Feeling unaccountably indulgent she dropped her forehead to his, her smile soft and pliant. From her scalp to the soles of her feet he was against her, both warming her and causing delicious shivers down her spine. "There's no secret, Booth."

For a long moment he was motionless. "No?" He kissed her, his lips meeting hers intimately, persuasively. "I'm not so sure about that. There has to be a secret." He nibbled and tasted her, his mouth curving upward even as hers did. "Too soft. Too soft and much too tasty. Tell me the truth."

She couldn't take her eyes off him. Couldn't stop feeling him. A sudden surge of playfulness flooded her and she grinned coyly and said nothing, deliberately teasing him. Her silence ended on a peal of triumphant laughter when he flipped her, his muscular arms and legs pinning her to the mattress. She chose not to free herself, instead running her hands around his lean waist, sensitive fingertips pressing lightly over his back to his muscular shoulders. When his powerful frame shuddered against her she was quick to take note. "Agent Booth. All this impressive strength, so carefully concealed." Satisfaction flared in her when he tensed, deltoid and trapezius muscles bulging, biceps and triceps like stone under her wandering touch. "And sometimes not quite so carefully." Pleased with his instant response, she moved against him, subtly tormenting him. "Surely you agree that this is better than going to a movie."

"Do I?"

Her eyes flashed with humor as she tightened her grip on him. "It would be in your best interest to agree."

He dragged one big hand down her side, teasing and soothing simultaneously, and smiled when her body and lips twitched. Unable to resist, he did it again, then hissed in surprise when she angled her fingers into his back, blunt nails digging in painfully. "Ow, damn, Bones..."

An expression of smug satisfaction bloomed on her face. "What is that expression? Oh yes. Don't play with fire." Pleased with his deep chuckle, she grinned and wiggled saucily underneath him. She did it to provoke him, but her movements were rewarding for her. His body was velvet-clad iron, and she couldn't help the feminine purr of approval as she felt him. "What do you want, Booth?"

Midnight eyes met eyes the color of a mid-afternoon sky. "You know what I want. Same thing you want, baby..." He bent down to kiss her but was surprised when she planted a hand on his chest, a slightly mutinous pout on her lips. "What's wrong?"

"Don't call me baby. I don't care for that name."

"Oh, c'mon...I know what you said, but it's not cause I think you're an infant or anything." His tone was soft, persuasive even as the corner of his mouth lifted slyly. "It's 'cause you're so goddamn hot, hotter than the sun. It's a term of endearment...Besides, you told me not to call you Bones in the beginning, but you wound up liking _that_..."

Spotting the mischievous tilt to his lips, she smiled hotly and brought her other hand down hard on his backside, excitement flaring in her at his involuntary jerk. "I said _no_."

"Oh man, you're in trouble now..." Swapping grins with her, enjoying her lightheartedness and driven almost out of his mind by the sultry sway of her body beneath his, he tried to gain the upper hand. But all of a sudden she seemed to have twice the speed and dexterity than normal. Every time he pounced she whipped her hand away. Tauntingly she pinched and poked and prodded sensitive spots he hadn't been aware he possessed, and once her knee lifted dangerously high, causing his eyes to cross in reaction while she snickered. She shouldn't have been able to get the upper hand so easily, but it was all he could do to keep up with her. Her reaction time and agility were a match for his swiftness and determination. It didn't matter, though. He planned on ending this game, and he knew how to end it so they were both winners. "I gotta tell you, Bones..." Pausing for effect he slid his palm down, lifting her thigh and stroking firmly, fully, into her. "...everything about you is worth the price of admission." Pleased with her surprised gasp he moved slowly against her, determined to hear it again.

"Booth..." Everything in her coiled and heated when she looked up at him, when he moved inside her. In an instant, their levity was gone, replaced with a lovely, easy languor. Responding in what felt like slow motion she shifted dizzily, stretching and arching against him, sliding her legs higher against his thighs. Fingers reaching, grasping, drifting down to settle on his waist. The feel of him so heavy and strong over her. All of his power held in check as he kissed her quietly. Almost reverently. No one had ever looked at her like Booth did. Anyone she'd ever been with...she'd never had this. No one had ever touched her like this, looked at her like this. Gladly foregoing her need for air she answered him unreservedly, taking him in, both straining against him and moving with him, her ebb and flow following the force he exuded.

He reached under her, sliding one arm under her shoulder, weaving his fingers through the satiny strands of hair. "Let me in." He stilled the automatic inquiry and silenced her deliberate confusion, laying his finger against her lips. "No. Let me _in.._." Seconds passed and he froze, waiting for her, hoping he hadn't ruined everything. The fear and tension was so evident he began moving again. It didn't matter. She just needed more time. But the touch of her fingers on his jaw stopped him, and when he looked at her again his heart slammed in his chest; a sledgehammer blow. Her apprehension and anxiety were gone, replaced by a look of something almost approaching wonder. Her features lightened, her manner toward him growing softer and more yielding in a way that made her appear almost painfully young. When she spoke, the vulnerability in her hushed whisper almost broke him.

"Booth, I want you to know. I trust you. I do. It's just that –"

"I know, Bones. I understand. I'm here. It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

He was braced above her, the solidness of his form blocking out everything else. His face, so full of understanding, full of patience. Full of...finally forced to recognize the truth, she couldn't look away. She wouldn't have thought it possible but his eyes intensified even further, the truth, the breathtaking truth of the emotion in his face deepening so much that, witnessing it, she wondered how she hadn't known. She'd seen that look before. How many times before had she seen it and not recognized it? Not wanted to recognize it? She'd known the answer. He'd never had to tell her. But the emotion so strong in his face humbled her. "I don't want you to..."

"Bones..."

I don't want to hurt you." She repeated her words from earlier, her voice barely audible. He was so special. Fear sprang up in her, but not fear for herself. She'd never before cared if she hurt someone. She always made her position on relationships perfectly clear before becoming involved. But somewhere, when she wasn't looking, wasn't guarding herself, he'd become so very special to her. For the first time, she began to understand his need to protect. To shield what was important to him.

He knew instantly she wasn't speaking of the physical anymore. "Don't you get it, Bones?" Tracing the curve of her cheek with his thumb, his half-smile full of resignation and longing. "I'd take pain from you over pleasure from anyone else."

She could no more stop the tears that fell than stop wanting him. Ravenous for the feel of his skin she reached up, tracing the strong line of his jaw. The brow that displayed so much bravery and intelligence and caring. "That isn't logical."

"No." He could try and explain it to her. He much preferred showing her. Slightly at first, then more strongly, he began moving in her again. "It's not logical. It's love."

Her heart started pounding even harder. His muscular arms were around her, his mouth dropping liquid kisses on her body. She trusted him. She believed him. Unable at first to speak, she surrounded him with her warmth, holding him as tightly as possible. Soon, all too soon, it wasn't enough. She began whispering to him, over and over, words for him alone, her words of gratitude mingling with his soft promises to her.

Her color was high, her eyes shining with tears and trust, her warmth surrounding him. So close. She was so close. It was nearly all he wanted. It was one small word away from everything. He did the only thing he could do and gathered her near, sinking into her, drowning in her. If this was as far as she was ever be able to go, as much as she was ever be able to give, he would take it and hold on as tightly as possible. It was already more than he'd ever hoped to have, so much more than he'd ever thought he deserved. Somewhere along the line he'd quietly begun to feel that maybe he'd been wrong, that the theory he'd always held about one person being out there for him simply wasn't true. He had Parker, and Pops, and a couple close friends. He didn't need more than that. A lot of people didn't even have that much. He'd realized that once he'd met Bones. She had Angela, but that was it. A family that had abandoned her when she was a teenager. A family that even now was barely there for her. And him. She'd had him. He'd tried to be the best friend to her that he could, once he'd realized just how brilliant a diamond was under the rough. Then somewhere along the line there'd been a shift in the way he viewed her. He'd begun to think that maybe he'd found the one, that they'd each found that one person, but just didn't know it. After that the fall had been short, and it had most definitely been a one-way trip.

She was trembling almost violently under him, her hands clutching frantically at his shoulders, his arms. Dismayed to see tears streaming down her face, he caressed them away, smiling encouragingly as he stroked her damp cheeks and hair. She finally smiled back at him and he kissed her, unable to resist quickening the pace.

The irrational emotions that had gripped her suddenly ceased and she could feel the sensations building and layering within her. Her arms and legs vised around him with all the strength and desire that was boiling up inside her. "I want you. God, I want you...I want you...please..." The feel of his skin against hers, his hot breath warming her inside and out, made her feel as if she was inside a roiling volcano. The heat, it was too hot, too much. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't see. She couldn't see anything but him. His broad shoulders loomed over her, blocking out everything else.

"You have me. I'm right here." He tried to focus, tried not to be dragged away in her undertow, but it was impossible. His love for her exposed every vulnerability and stripped his heart as bare as his body. Spurred on by her soft, almost sleepy murmurs he found just the right rhythm and smiled when those murmurs became moans. "That's my girl..." Her relentlessly plunging body matched his stroke for stroke, her moans morphing into shuddering gasps and sobs that he greedily swallowed. "Bones, God...Bones..." His fingers clutched fiercely at her, digging into her soft flesh as she writhed and convulsed, locking around him in an almost-painful embrace. Helpless to resist her wanton reaction, he shuddered and jerked almost violently into her, a groan of heady satisfaction pushing past his gritted teeth.

As her breathing began to slow she became aware of his lips pressed just behind her ear. When he would have rolled off of her she tightened her arms again, pleased when he acquiesced to her wordless demand and remained in place. His heavy body anchored her, much as his unswerving support had anchored her for so long. She was no longer able to ignore how her life had changed since he'd come into it. She contented herself with listening to his heart, the steady, rhythmic pulsing seeming to echo her own heart's cadence. It was enough. It would have to be enough.

BBBBB

"You should try to finish that." Barefoot and shirtless, unbuttoned jeans riding low, Booth waved at her sandwich with his own. "It's the only thing you've had to eat all day." Mouth full, she merely stared him with raised brow. Seeing his chance, he hurried onward. "You have to admit, that's the best Italian sandwich you've ever eaten, huh? Right?"

She swallowed and reached for her napkin. "Well, it's actually the _only_ Italian sandwich I've ever eaten, so although your statement is technically correct, more research would need to be done before that result can be substantiated." With the next bite, she jumped as cold juice from the slice of tomato plopped on her leg. "It is a very good sandwich, however."

"Here, let me get that for you." Instead of using a napkin, he pushed his thumb slowly up the inside of her thigh, capturing the errant droplets before they had a chance to stain the Flyers shirt draped over her willowy frame.

Unable to fully fight the shiver sprinting up her spine, her eyes remained glued on his while she wondered at his ability to so easily pull responses from her. Just fifteen minutes ago she'd been pinned underneath him, still reeling from the sensual shock waves. And now her system was now revving all over again from a simple brush of a finger. He shouldn't have been able to do that. No one had ever been able to do that. She fidgeted uneasily, patches of crimson staining her cheeks while he smiled knowingly.

"So what do you say, Bones? Let's go in and check out the boob tube, see if we can find a good movie to watch."

"I'm not sure, Booth. I stayed much longer than I had originally planned. My editor has already paged me three times today. I have to finish the next chapter by Wednesday." Brushing off her hands, she carried her plate to the sink and began rinsing it. "I promised her I would complete this section."

He blinked in surprise. Not because of the excuse, but because of the genuine regret he heard in her voice. After he'd shown his hand in the bedroom he'd expected her to bolt at the first opportunity. But she'd surprised him a few times today. Not only had she agreed to stay for a meal, she actually sounded as if she didn't want to leave. However, she'd made a promise to her editor and she was most definitely a woman of her word. Then his surprise faded as he remembered their conversation in the diner. She'd promised that she'd try, and she was trying. She was trying regardless of the awkwardness he was sure she must be feeling. There was no way that what had happened before could have been anything but a shock and yet she was still here, eating and talking and _not_ running as fast as possible in the other direction. Watching her, his chest burned with pride at her strength of will. And her kindness, too. She was displaying a generosity to him that he wouldn't have expected even a week ago. She constantly claimed she was utterly rational, that she was completely removed from her emotions. That she deliberately kept people – men, specifically – at a distance. But she was clearly trying to let herself open up more, at least when it came to him. Wanting to give her a choice, he dropped his own dishes into the sink and reached out to turn off the faucet. "Don't worry about this. I can bring you home whenever you need to go. I don't want you to run into problems with the book. You work too hard as it is."

She wasn't sure what to say, so she busied herself with drying her hands on the dishtowel for a moment. He was doing it again – she'd never met anyone like him. He was trying to give her what she wanted, trying to be as selfless as possible. She hadn't thought she'd want to stay, but realized suddenly that she was not exactly looking forward to going home to endless hours of work. With a sense of discomfiture she heard herself speak. "I could probably stay for another hour, if you'd like."

Threading his fingers through hers, he smiled and tugged her closer, bringing her near. "I'll take that hour." Moving briskly toward the living room, he scooped up the remote and flopped onto the couch, his yank on their still-joined hands causing her to sprawl on top of him. With a deft flick of the buttons he whirred about the channels, bypassing several sports stations with only a couple of murmurs about draft picks and disabled lists. Suddenly he stopped and backed up a few channels, smiling when a familiar black-and-white scene filled the screen. "Ooh – Shadow of a Doubt. Have you ever seen it?"

"Yes. I find it a very impressive example of Hitchcock's earlier work. But it's already been on for some time, Booth."

"Nah, that's good. There's only about an hour left, which works out perfectly. Besides, that Theresa Wright was a real looker. I could watch her anytime." Hauling her up even higher, he kicked his legs up onto the cushions and dragged a blanket down over them.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm cold." He wasn't cold, but when he'd pulled her against him her skin had been cooler than he liked. He made a mental note to kick up the thermostat the next time she was here.

Suspicion glinted in her eyes. "You're never cold."

"You don't know that. I'm _rarely_ cold."

"Perhaps if you were fully-dressed..."

"I don't _need_ to be fully-dressed. I'm fully-blanketed. And fully-Bones'd." As he'd expected, she rolled her eyes and her mouth quirked in that little involuntary grin she got whenever he behaved foolishly. "I'm already warmer. Feel." Grabbing her chilly hands, he slid them around him and then quickly leaned back, effectively trapping her against him. "See? I'll be toasty in no time."

"Booth."

"Bones." He planted an impulsive kiss on her lips. "You wanna watch the movie, or just argue for an hour?" Another kiss, this time with slight licks of heat just behind it. "I can do either..."

Fighting the creeping flush his proximity and intensity were inspiring, she settled more comfortably against him. "I believe I would like to watch the end of the movie." Fully aware that he was still watching her, she ignored his wicked grin and focused her attention on the television set. They watched in comfortable silence for a time as the drama unfolded. Young Charlie had just been rescued from the garage when she felt a change in Booth's breathing and twisted around. His eyes were lightly closed, his expression one of complete relaxation. Many times she found herself on the receiving end of one of his intense examinations but she rarely had a chance to watch him. She took a moment now to study him thoroughly, in a way she would never have dared were he awake. The bruises were worse now, having developed over the last two days, but the cuts and scrapes were beginning to heal. He was obviously still tired from the arrest and the resulting injuries. He could easily have begged off from this last case; he had a more-than-valid excuse. Yet he hadn't. Aside from grousing good-naturedly to her, he'd suited up and jumped right back into their routine. He was the only person she knew who was as dedicated to what they did as she was.

"Why are you watching me?"

She frowned, surprised. "How did you know I was looking at you?"

"Please," he mumbled sleepily. "I can feel the burn of your baby blues a mile away. Somethin' wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I felt like looking at you. Is that a problem?"

"Unh-uh. But I'm losing the eyelid battle here, Bones. What say I take you home before I'm out for the count?"

Her shrewd observation caught the hint of shadow under his eyes and the slightly drawn quality around his mouth. She stood and dropped the blanket back onto him. "Rest for a few minutes. I'll wake you up when I've gathered my things."

"Mmm. Just a minute or two, 'kay?" He managed to worm his way flat on the couch, half of his head disappearing under the blanket in the process.

She backed away until her calves hit the scarred leather of his armchair and quietly sat, drawing her knees up under her chin. The movie ended and another began, the television blaring ceaselessly as the light slowly faded from the room. Still she sat, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she watched him, a troubled frown on her face.


	20. Author Note

**AUTHOR NOTE**

I've been going crazy with real life - the two family members are in declining health, and it's taken up most of my time. But I have good news - Bet is not dead! In about 2-3 days I will post the next chapter, and I'm already starting the chapter after that. I'm finally regaining some of my desire to write - I think it was in hibernation due to the stress in my life.

I just wanted to give those of you who are following the story - and those who've been kind enough to stick with me - a chance to bone up (ha ha) on the last few chapters. I know it's been quite a while, so I didn't want to just spring a new chapter on you without warning.

Thank you to everyone who has expressed how much they love this story - because of you, I never once considered leaving it undone. You guys are the best!

Anyway, stand-by for the next installment! Maybe either Wednesday or Thursday. And thank you again!


	21. Chapter 20

**FINALLY! It's so good to be back and writing. I received so many lovely responses to my Author's Note - you guys really are all so wonderful. I hope this was worth the wait - I'm a little rusty from so much down time, so I hope you'll be forgiving while I find my stride again. Thank you again to all of you who've been so very patient.**

**THE BET**

"How much more of this crapola do we have to sift through?"

Brennan paused, shifting back on her heels and swiping the back of her wrist across her forehead. "Exactly as much as it takes to find the rest of the skull fragments." Absently she swatted at a mosquito while she studied her friend's progress critically. "That's good. Anything you find has to be photographed before you remove it. All specimens can be secured and placed in the containers."

Angela twisted around to face her, her horror clearly apparent. "Oh God – I don't have to figure out what any of it is, do I? Because you know I can't tell a mandible from...some other bone whose name I can't remember. And if I mislabel any of the soil samples, I'll _never _hear the end of it from Jack."

"No, I don't need you to perform any evaluations on your findings. Just make sure they're properly photographed and bagged – Hodgins and Zach can identify and separate everything when they return."

Angela bent over her small plot of earth again, muttering petulantly. "Small favors. I should be grateful for small favors. So," she continued more loudly, "can you please tell me again why I'm collecting evidence with you when there are fifteen well-qualified groupies – excuse me, grad students - dying a slow, painful death back at the lab because you wouldn't bring any of them along?"

"This is the newest rotation of students, and they aren't familiar with my methods or process yet. As this is more a matter of identification for the lab, and not a crime, it's not an issue for you to assist me. You've done more fieldwork than any of them – I can at least trust that you won't compromise the site."

"Well, woo-hoo for me."

"Did you say something?"

"No." She wasn't one of those frou-frou girly-girls who was afraid of a little dirt. Really she wasn't. But digging up bones was _not_ on her list of Things To Do Before Dying. And it was a really big list. Besides, how could she have her palm read later if Eliane couldn't see her hands under all the grime and muck? "How long are Urkel and Rasputin going to be at that seminar? I mean, they've been gone for hours already."

"Urkel and...oh. They should be back at the lab in about an hour. Take these extra bags. You may need them when you reach the next section."

Reaching out, Angela missed them on the first try. Turning to better locate them, she instantly caught the pensive expression on her friend's face. Instincts not merely humming, but singing the Hallelujah chorus at the top of their lungs, she sat back on her heels and took a good long study. Something was wrong. Brennan was trying to hide it, but something was definitely _up_. "Wait a minute. It wasn't that you didn't want the interns...it's that you wanted _me_." She aimed the handful of bags accusingly at her. "What's going on? You have that 'I have to talk but I don't want to talk but I really need to talk' look on your face."

Briskly she turned back to her work, taking care not to meet her eyes. "I don't know what you mean, Angela."

"Oh, yes you do. Don't play clueless with me; it won't work. What's going on?" When she was met with a stony silence, she sighed and tried again. "Look, Sweetie, you obviously need to talk to someone. And you always either talk to Booth or me. Since you begged off of lunch with him but brought me out here, obviously it's about _him_." She placed a hand on Brennan's arm. "Let's take a break. It's past lunchtime, and while you may not be hungry, I'm starving."

Brennan hesitated, but finally nodded and slowly straightened from the crouch she'd been in for hours. "Yes. Perhaps that would be best."

They settled in the shade beside the Medico-Legal truck, sharing the fresh fruit salad and grilled avocado sandwiches Brennan had loaded into the cooler earlier that morning.

"Okay, so talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Well, nothing's _really_ wrong," she reluctantly amended, in response to Angela's arched brow.

"Bren, honey, it's me. Are you going to make me pry it out of you? You know you can tell me anything. It'll go no further."

Brennan calmed somewhat at her words. However much of a romantic meddler she might be, one thing Angela could be counted upon was her silence when it was important. "I know, Angela. You are very discreet."

"It's true." With a grin, Angela popped a grape in her mouth. "The only time I'm loose-lipped is when Jack's around."

Unable to help herself, Brennan rolled her eyes and laughed. "Angela..."

"It's true. You can ask him." Satisfied that some of Brennan's tension has dissipated, she leaned forward and patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Now tell me."

Brennan hesitated, unsure where to begin. "You are correct. It is about Booth."

"Sweetie. Of course it is. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm very confused."

"Confused? In what way?"

"Well...I don't know, precisely."

Angela's eyes widened. She'd heard Brennan say she didn't understand something more times than she could count, but this was a whole new brand of discombobulation for her friend. "Okay...much as I'd like to help you I'm going to need you to elaborate a little bit more for me. Why don't you just tell me what's been happening between you lately and we'll go from there."

"All right." She started to speak and then hesitated. After a minute she began again, her halting voice detailing everything that had happened in the last couple of months. All the things she'd been through with Booth, everything they'd said. Everything they'd done.

To her credit, Angela for once did not interrupt excitedly as she was normally wont to do. Rightly cueing in on the rarity of what was happening and the seriousness of the subject, she sat quietly, all of her attention on her friend. Finally, Brennan's voice faltered and stopped, and Angela held out her napkin. "Here."

Surprised, Brennan looked up at her. "What is that for?"

"You're crying."

She automatically put her hands to her face, wiping the tears away with a profound sense of embarrassment. "I'm sorry...I don't know why."

"Don't you? You're upset, honey, and you're tired. That's more than enough reason. But what you aren't, Brennan, is confused. What you _are_ is conflicted."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're not confused. That implies that you don't know or understand what's going on. But you do. You understand exactly what's happening but you're afraid of it. You're fighting it." When Brennan opened her mouth to speak, Angela held up a hand. "Wait. You brought me out here to Mosquitoville because you needed to talk. You wanted me to pry this out of you. So now you get to listen to me."

After a long moment Brennan nodded, her eyes fixed on the ground.

"This wouldn't be bothering you if you weren't feeling something. You know, you just assumed that you'd win this bet; that there was no way that Booth could make you _feel_. But now you are. You're feeling all sorts of emotions, and fear is one of them."

Her reaction was swift and predictable. "I'm not scared, Angela. I just don't want emotional involvement."

"Oh yes, you do. And that's part of what's giving you fits. Now that you've experienced just how special a relationship, a _real_ relationship, can be, you do want it. You want it, but you don't _want_ to want it, so you're _pretending_ you don't want it."

Even accustomed as she was to Angela's roundabout way of expressing herself, Brennan's head began to spin. "I...don't even know where to begin with that sentence."

"Yes you do, Brennan. You know exactly what I mean. Sure, you could go through life protecting yourself. After what you went through I can hardly fault you. But Bren, if you're protecting your heart, then why? What for? You must be keeping it whole for something. You're can't just be preserving it for yourself." Sighing in frustration at the bewildered look on her friend's face, she thought for a moment. "Okay. Let's try this. You don't believe in Heaven, or that there's an afterlife, right?"

"No, Angela. You know I don't."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"What – I don't understand…"

"If you don't think there's anything..._after..._after this, why the hell are you so intent on never loving again? If this is your only go-around, why won't you take that chance? Are you going to go through your entire life alone? Avoiding any lasting, real relationship just to preserve your feelings? At the end of your life, do you really want to look back and say, 'Well, at least I didn't let anyone get close enough to hurt me'?" She placed a gentle hand on Brennan's shoulder. "Honey – I know you've already been hurt. I don't want you to think I don't remember that. You've been hurt very badly in a lot of different ways. But you kinda went off in the wrong direction because of it. Yes, you were hurt. But because of that, by my thinking if anyone deserves to have some true happiness, some joy, it's you."

"I'm happy, Angela." She'd averred this sentiment many times, both to herself and to others. But now it didn't seem like a fact. It sounded so hollow. So defensive.

Angela's mouth firmed in a stubborn frown. "No, you're not happy. You're content, and at times you're bordering on happy, but you never quite _get_ to happy and stay there. Not really. And now you have this chance...this wonderful, big chance. It's like there's this beautiful gift, all wrapped in special paper, and there's a lovely tag on the top with your name. It's yours. It was always meant for you. But you refuse to open it. This is your moment, your golden opportunity. What are you waiting for?"

Shaken by her friend's sudden vehemence, Brennan recoiled slightly. "I...I don't need a person to make me happy, Angela. My work makes me happy."

"Bullshit."

"Angela..."

"You heard me." She leaned forward, the dappled sunlight casting soft patterns on the stern lines of her face. "That's a big old paint can full of bullshit. Your work makes you content. It satisfies a part of you. But it doesn't give you _joy_. Joy so strong that your stomach clenches when you feel it, that your throat closes and you shed tears from the pressure of it. Joy so rich and complete you can taste it."

At a loss, Brennan looked helplessly at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know – more's the pity. That's exactly my point. For once you're actually telling the truth. You don't know what I'm talking about. You've never experienced the joy that comes from not only being loved, but loving in return. And that scares me." Quick tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm just so afraid that you're going to look around at the end of your life and realize that you missed out, that you denied yourself something so wonderful. That you refused to let anyone touch you. Please don't let that happen, Brennan. Please. It's okay to love."

"I'm..." It was hard, so hard to say it. To admit it to someone. To admit it to herself. But when she looked at Angela, all she saw was acceptance and understanding. Finally, the tightness in her throat went away and she could speak. "I am scared, Angela. I'm so scared. I don't know what to do."

For a while both sat silently. After a few minutes, Angela took a deep breath.

"I'm going to tell you something, something I've never told anyone. For as long as we've known each other, how many times have you seen me move from one location to the next, one relationship to the next?" She fiddled absently with her fork. "We all have things we're afraid of."

Brennan stared at her, surprised. She hadn't expected Angela to say that. She'd always thought her friend was fearless. "You're not afraid to love, Angela."

"Well, no. Love isn't a problem for me – at least, not love of a certain kind. But the kind of love that goes hand-in-hand with trust? That's a different story altogether." A wry smile settled on her lips. "You don't know what it's like, being the daughter of someone famous. People approach you all the time but you never know if it's you they really want or just the connection. A bunch of times when I was younger I trusted people, only to find out that they considered me a one-way ticket to my father." She smiled lopsidedly, accepting Brennan's offered hand with relief. "It hurt a lot. That's one of the reasons why I've never let my relationships become permanent. Until now…until Jack." Her smile grew and warmed. "I'm starting to really trust someone else, probably for the first time in my life. But see – you have that over me, Brennan. You already trust."

Brennan's eyes widened and she crushed her lunch bag in frustrated fists. "How can you say that? After everything I told you how can you think that?"

"No, you don't understand. You may not realize it, but you already trust Booth. Whether you meant to or not, you've trusted him almost since the day you met him. The two of you are best friends; you're family. That's not your issue. What you need, Brennan, is to trust _yourself_ again."

Rather than responding to Angela's statement, she found herself revealing something that had been gnawing at her. "He doesn't trust me."

Surprised by the sudden detour, Angela gaped at her. "What do you mean? Of course he trusts you. He talks to you when he won't talk to _anyone_ else. He trusts you with his life –"

The trees dipped lazily away from the warm breeze, darkening Brennan's downcast face. "I don't know, Angela."

"Wait a minute. Are you talking about that silly argument you guys had in the truck the other day?" A quick glance from Brennan confirmed her suspicions. "Honey, that had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with love."

"You're not making sense, Angela. How can the way he was behaving be because of love?"

"Look. If you knock knees with a guy, eventually you're gonna bump heads. It's normal in a relationship – all guys'll pull that crap, and Booth is _definitely_ a guy. That protective thing he does, sweetie? Part of that is just who he is – he's a protector. He feels it's his responsibility, and that is one man who takes his responsibilities seriously. But I'll tell you right now – I've gone out with him a couple times during investigations, and you can bet your shiny chestnut hair that he _never_ hovered over me like he does over you. Some of it is the partner thing, but, Bren? Most of it...he's trying to tell you something. It's his extremely subtle and non-verbal way of telling you he loves you. Being Booth, he's probably having a moderate to severe problem expressing himself, and this is how he says _it_ without actually saying it. If you ask me, he's waiting for you to say it _back_."

Panic flared across Brennan's face. "People say things they don't mean all the time, Angela. It comes easily for them. They say things and then you discover that they didn't really mean what they said. But you believed them. You thought it was real, because you didn't know any better. Because you weren't smart enough to know they were lying."

"Did you not just hear me say that, if anything, Booth is having a _hard_ time telling you how he feels? He doesn't want to freak you out. That makes him different from all those other losers who came before." A sudden suspicion flared, and without hesitation she ran with it. "And if I'm not mistaken, how he feels isn't exactly news to you. You're not as oblivious as you let on." She caught the flicker in the pale blue eyes before Brennan looked away. "I thought so. You _know_ how he feels. I was wrong...he said something to you. How long have you known?"

Truths, Brennan thought wearily. She couldn't keep lying to Angela. "He said something the other day. But I've suspected for some time that he was feeling more than mere sexual attraction. The night we went to dinner with you and Jack...he said something."

"What? What did he say?" When Brennan's face flushed, her curiosity grew. But her love for her friends easily slapped down her desire to know everything. "It's okay. If it was something really private you don't have to tell me. I understand."

Brennan heaved a sigh. "He said we belong to each other. But that's not right, Angela. One human being can't belong to another. That possessive attitude, the proprietary nature of it, goes against everything I believe."

"I don't know, Brennan...in theory I agree with you. I'm very independent. But that could be part of my problem. Maybe that's another reason why my relationships never stuck. I was never willing to really, truly belong to someone, and let them belong to me. But lately I've had some time to think about it and I've kinda changed my mind. As long as it's mutual, as long as it goes hand in hand with true respect and a sincere desire for the other person's well-being, what's the harm? If you both feel the same way then it shouldn't matter. Hell, maybe it can even make things better. I have to tell you, I feel very selfish when it comes to Hodgins. Just knowing that he's with me exclusively – well, there was a time when it would have bothered me to say that I was also with him alone. But now? I think I'm beginning to really like it."

"I don't know, Angela. Booth is a textbook example of an Alpha male..."

"...And he respects you so much. More than anyone I've ever met, and as much as I don't want to I have to include myself in that group, if I'm being honest I guess I have to. He truly only wants what's best for you. Everyone else always has an agenda, although they might think they don't. Even if they believe their reasons for doing and saying things are completely altruistic, they're always subtly influenced by their own desires. Not Booth. I can tell you without a moment's doubt - if the best thing for you was that you never saw him again, he would make that happen. No matter how much it might hurt him. Your happiness is paramount to him, honey. And as far as the Alpha male malarkey, well, when was the last time Booth jumped in to fight your fights for you? I mean really just jumped in there and subdued a suspect before you could? I'll tell you when – never. Or at least not since the very beginning of your partnership."

"Wha- how do you know that?"

Angela assumed an arch expression. "I have my ways. But that doesn't matter now. The fact is, Booth isn't some bicep-laden bohunk. Well, he _is_ bicep-laden – he's pretty much _everything_-laden - but you know what I mean. He lets you fight your own battles all the time. As a matter of fact, I think he probably enjoys watching you pulverize all those hardened criminals. He doesn't step in, but he watches just in case you need help. And that, Brennan, is what a true partnership is. Letting you stand on your own but ready to help if you need it."

"Maybe you're right, Angela. I don't know. I..." Encouraged by Angela's warm hand upon her wrist, by Angela's unquestioning support, she somehow found the courage to say the words. "I think that somehow, I've gotten used to Booth. It's different when we're together. I'm comfortable when I'm with him. I used to think that changing for someone else was hypocritical and weak. But he seems to want me to be just who I am. And maybe...maybe I like having him there."

Angela carefully avoided swallowing her tongue and stared at Brennan with big eyes. This was big. Capital B big. In all the time she'd know Brennan, _never_ had she heard anything even remotely like this come out of her mouth. This was huge. A seismic shift in Brennan's landscape. And without a doubt, she knew her friend would never be the same again. "Finally," she whispered quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Listen to me." she continued, the urgency ringing in her low voice. "There is nothing wrong with feeling that way, Brennan. Nothing. You're experiencing what millions of people all over the world experience every day. And it's not a sign of weakness. If anything, it's a strength. Tell me this. Why?"

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Why do you think you might want Booth to be around? What is it specifically that you like?" She casually linked arms with Brennan. "I mean, you don't have to tell me big secrets or anything, but if there's anything you can share...there must be some reasons."

Unable to stop herself, Brennan smiled, for the first time that day feeling the pressure on her chest ease just a bit. No matter what happened in her life, Angela remained unchanged. In her own bizarre, bohemian way, she was as constant as the sunrise. And she really did want to help. Maybe she could tell Angela something. Yes, if she could do that, it might help her as well. Oftentimes, making a list helped organize her thoughts and clarify her course of action. "All right. I could perhaps provide a few examples of attributes Booth possesses."

Carefully arranging her face in calmer lines, Angela resisted the urge to hug her friend. If Brennan needed to be objective – and who was she kidding, Brennan _always_ needed to be objective – then the least she could do was be appropriately serious. For the moment. "Thank you."

"Well...Booth is, of course, an excellent Federal agent. He is extremely courageous, possesses a finely-tuned set of morals, and he is exceedingly trustworthy."

"Of course. That goes without saying. Just an expression, Sweetie," she continued without pausing when Brennan frowned at her. "Keep going."

"Although he does not utilize a logical thought process, he possesses a first-rate mind."

"And a first-rate behind." When she caught sight of her friend's reproachful look, she shrugged impatiently, unable to help herself. She needed to lighten things up. Sometimes Brennan was _too_ serious. "Well, come _on_, now. Are you going to tell me that the only things that are on your list are his intangible qualities? 'Cause let me tell you – that man's 'tangible assets' are _many._"

For a moment Brennan struggled to maintain a disapproving frown. But when Angela rolled her eyes and fanned herself, she was unable to suppress a small smile. "I would be remiss if I neglected to mention Booth's physical aspects. It _is_ important from an anthropological standpoint –"

"The only standpoint that's important is that women stand and point when Hottie McHottstein walks in the room."

"He does have quite an impressive frame, and he possesses truly formidable strength."

"Impressive frame is right. Gives you more to hold on to." Knowing it never failed to get a reaction, Angela adopted a lascivious expression. "And then there's that _face_. Admit it, Bren, you're dating a _stud_."

She simply couldn't help it. Despite her emotional upheaval, she couldn't stop her laughter.

"There. That's better." She waited until Brennan calmed. "I understand that this is a big deal for you. Really I do. But you have to remember that this isn't genocide, and it's not world hunger. It's just a man, a wonderful man who loves you. A man you love."

Startled and caught off-guard, Brennan stuttered for a moment before finding her voice. "I never said I was in love with Booth, Angela."

"Remember that big old paint can I mentioned before? Well, there's no more room for any bullshit in it, babe. You're in love with Booth, and nothing you say to the contrary is ever going to convince me. You're Miss Anthropology, and you always say that to be a good anthropologist you have to be a good observer. Well, you're not the only one who's good at paying attention. I am too. I've learned a lot from you, and I've been watching you with Booth for a long time. Now why don't you 'fess up?"

Brennan looked at Angela. Looked away. Frayed the edge of her napkin. _Angela. It's only Angela_. Angela was her friend. Finally she thought about it, casting about for words the way one might check for a sore tooth. "It is possible that my...that the way I feel for Booth has changed." Tensing, she waited for pain, for fear. For the crowding panic that always assailed her at the mere thought of these moments. But there was nothing. Nothing but a sense of relief and a quick flush of exhaustion.

If anyone ever needed a hug, it was Brennan. It was obvious that she was really struggling with this. She could tell just by looking that she wasn't sleeping well. But Angela knew her friend would never accept it here, where there was no privacy. She settled for rubbing her thumb soothingly against Brennan's wrist. "There. Is it really so hard to admit that you feel something for the guy?"

"No. I suppose not." Like slender, carved pieces of ivory, her fingers pressed against her legs. "But Booth is a highly admirable person."

What Brennan left unspoken was obvious. "And you're not?"

She quietly dug at the dry soil with a twig, watching intently as little puffs of dust rose into the air. "All of the other men with whom I've had relationships...I thought they were admirable too."

"Please don't tell me you're still blaming yourself for that. Are you actually going to think less of yourself because you _trusted_?"

"It's hardly commendable that I can't even determine when someone I know well isn't being honest with me."

"Don't you dare put this on yourself. You did nothing wrong – as a matter of fact, you only did what we all do at one point or another in our lives. You believed the wrong person. It doesn't always work out, and when that happens it hurts like hell. But that's just not a good enough reason to give up on love."

"Does it happen to everyone numerous times?"

"Well...not always. You were just a little unlucky before. But then there was Sully. Now I know what you're going to say," she quickly added, "you're going to say that he left. And yes, he did leave. However hard that must have been for you, though, you can't deny that he was a great guy who was never anything but kind, and always completely honest with you. He just wasn't right for you. But now...now you're having a really _really_ lucky streak, Bren. I'm not talking about the nookie factor, either. It just took you some time to find the guy who not only earned your trust, but who _deserved_ it. Why don't you give him a break? No, that's not right," she hastily amended. "Why don't you give _yourself_ a break? You know, for someone who always comes across as so confident, you're a real basket case." Winded from her slightly frantic attempt to convince Brennan, she finally paused for a moment.

"I know what basket case means," Brennan muttered, her brow crinkling. "Booth explained it to me."

"Well, it's true but I say it with love. You know, you work on improving yourself in every way but one, sweetie. You need to work on letting yourself be happy."

Her next words were interrupted when a small car careened into the clearing and jerked to a halt behind the truck. "We're here! What'd we miss?" Hodgins sprang out of the Mini, fully suited up and toting his duffel bag. Zach followed more slowly, awkwardly unfolding his lankier frame from the small bucket seat.

Angela frowned in confusion. "I thought we were supposed to meet up with you back at the lab. How did you get out here so soon?"

"Hodgins broke traffic laws in several towns in order to shorten our travel time. He drove quite carelessly."

At Zach's revelatory words Jack rounded on him, bristling indignantly. "Oh yeah? Well I wouldn't have had to drive so fast if _someone_ hadn't asked forty-seven questions after the seminar."

Frowning in confusion, Zach shook his head. "I didn't ask forty-seven questions. I asked nine questions."

"Dude, don't you know you _never_ ask questions after one of those things? When they ask if anyone has any questions, you don't say anything. Everyone just wants to leave."

"Dr. Brennan sent us to the seminar to learn important new lab procedures. I would be negligent if I left without fully understanding the new process."

"Yeah, uh-huh. Meanwhile, I had to move away from you because I feared for my life. Did you see the glares people were throwing at us? It was getting _ugly_ in there."

Fully aware that they were quite capable of discussing their current topic for hours, Brennan crisply interrupted. "Regardless of why you're here, since you _are_ here I would prefer that you be useful. Zach, please review the samples Angela collected and make sure they were gathered correctly. Dr. Hodgins, please continue where Angela stopped. I'd like to finish this by the end of the day." Aware of the curious look on Zach's face, Brennan hastily began gathering up their discarded lunch material. It would be counterproductive to have either of them wondering why Angela was here at all. "Angela, since Zach and Dr. Hodgins are here I'll be able to finish cataloguing everything without your assistance."

Instantly picking up on her cue, she nodded and began to gather her things. "Jack, I'll take the Mini back so you can finish here. You'll ride back in the truck?"

Already engrossed in the soil samples arrayed before him, Jack mumbled distractedly and waved a hand in her general direction.

"Well, I guess that's my answer." She rolled her eyes and made her way over to the Mini, plucking the keys off the roof where Jack had left them. But before she could open the door she was brought up short by Brennan's hand on her arm. She stopped and turned to her, tipping her head questioningly. At that same moment Brennan's cel phone beeped, and Angela waited patiently while she checked the ID.

"Hello...yes, Angela and I had to do a non-criminal identification for the Institute. No, no...Angela's headed back to the lab now. Tonight? What time? All right...I'll call you when I get back to my office. Yes, that would be fine." She terminated the call and looked at Angela again.

"Booth."

"Yes, Booth." There were so many things she wanted to say to Angela, but she knew she didn't have the words. "Thank you."

The sentiment was almost whispered, but there was no doubting the stark emotion etched upon her face. She threw caution to the wind and gave Brennan a short, fierce hug. "You're welcome, Sweetie." Before she stepped away, she leaned close and spoke in a low tone. "Just remember - change can be a wonderful thing. You've been a rock for a long time, Brennan." Her lips curved knowingly. "Luckily for you, Booth's the ocean. He'll never stop coming to you."

**I know - after all this time, a chapter with no Booth! I'm sorry - but this was a chapter that had to happen. Brennan really needed some girl talk. I promise our gorgeous FBI guy will be back full-force in the next chapter. I've already started working on it - I'm hoping all stays quiet on the home front for a while. Thank you again for reading.**


	22. Chapter 21

**So, it took me longer than a month to post. But I did better than last time! No three months this time. Well, folks, this story is definitely near the end. I think two more chapters - plus or minus a chapter. I know that sounds sneaky, but it's really not. I accepted a long time ago that this story made me it's bitch. It will be however long it wants to be. Thanks again for hanging in there, and I hope you like this chapter!**

**THE BET**

For the fourth time in as many minutes, Booth checked his phone. Nothing. "Damn it..." In disgust, he threw the phone onto the coffee table, where it bounced and skittered off the far side and under the couch. "Shit!" Deliberately he turned his back on the uncooperative device and strode into the kitchen. A lengthy perusal of the refrigerator's contents revealed entirely too much of Bones' health food and not nearly enough junk food to satisfy him. "I am not eating tofu." He grumpily closed the door and rummaged in the cupboard, crowing in momentary triumph when he unearthed two Slim Jims. Man, he really needed to get off his lazy ass and shop. He didn't even have any Twinkies in the house. That was just _wrong_. The ratio of his junk food to Bones' health food was way too one-sided right now. How did that happen when he was the one living here? Meandering back into the living room, he gnawed hungrily on the treat and flopped down in the scarred leather armchair.

Bones still hadn't called. He was trying to wait for her. He _wanted_ to have lunch with her, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could last. His last phone call with her had been brief and all business. She'd been called to Rock Creek Park headquarters on Institute business and hadn't been able to tell him how long she'd be there. When he'd asked her about lunch, she had sounded reluctant but had agreed to meet him at the diner for a meal.

She was such a mystery. In all the years he'd known her, he'd learned so much about her. But in some ways she'd become even harder to understand. Especially since they'd gotten involved. He enjoyed every minute they spent together, more than he'd ever thought he could. He now truly understood her motives and reasoning when it came to her personal life. But sometimes it seemed like the more he figured out, the less he knew. Since around the time they'd closed the Lederson case - that was pretty much when he'd noticed the change in her. She was more open to him now than at any other time. But there was something she wasn't telling him. It was frustratingly easy to see. If only he could tell _what_ it was that she was withholding just as easily. It definitely had to do with him. She was studying him so often he was beginning to feel like a lab specimen.

Not that he minded. The preoccupied lines in his face relaxed and he smiled; an easy, happy smile. He was only human, after all. He'd spent years quietly watching her. Tracking her every move when he was with her and subconsciously doing the same when they were apart. Even when she wasn't actually in his sights, she was always in the back of his mind. He had always somehow felt that if he _looked_ at her for long enough, then he'd know. He'd know all the facts about her that he'd always wondered about. What made her laugh; what made her cry. What caused her eyes to snap with anger or cool with professional disdain. And for the most part he'd found out those things. But there was more. He fought off the sense that time was running out and made himself relax.

Maybe she was wondering about him. The thought made him smile even wider. He was okay with that.

The ringing of his celphone interrupted his musings, and he vaulted out of the chair. Even as he dove to the floor to look for his phone he was rolling his eyes at his foolishness. He hadn't been this crazy to get a phone call from a girl since he was in high school. "Lame..." he grunted as he swept his arm under the couch, digging deep. His fingers just brushed the corner of it, pushing it further away. With a muttered curse he shoved his arm further underneath. "I am _so_ lame." At last his fingers brushed the hard plastic, and he managed to grab it just as the ringing stopped. Quickly he scanned the display. Of course it was her. He dialed her, feeling like all kinds of a fool. "Hey, Bones."

"Booth. Where were you?"

"I dropped the phone." Smiling, he rolled over to his back and studied the chipped ceiling. If he squinted and tilted his head the chipped spots looked like Bones. Sort of. "What's going on? You done yet?"

"No, not yet. I'm still here."

"Really, Bones? Are you gonna be much longer? I'm _starving_." Groaning, he dropped his hand over his eyes. This wasn't good. It was _never_ good. When she got hooked up in work stuff like this, she was likely to spend hours meticulously dotting every i and crossing every t. He began to mentally calculate how annoyed she'd be if he showed up with lunch on-site.

There was a short period of silence. "Actually, I require your assistance at this location. Would you be willing to meet me here?"

He frowned. She seemed hesitant, unsure. And why the hell would she need him for Institute stuff? "Everything okay?" Immediately plagued by images of Bones in trouble, he got quickly to his feet. Where were his keys? He looked frantically through the room. They were here somewhere...

"Yes, everything is fine, Booth. I simply have a situation that requires your unique talents. Can you meet me here?"

Calmed by her reassurance, he slowed from a headlong rush to a more respectable pace. "Yeah, Bones, of course I can come. Where are you, exactly?"

"Come to the parking area where Broad Branch Road meets Beach Drive. Are you familiar with that area?"

"Yeah, I run through there all the time. Just give me a few minutes."

"Very well. I'll be waiting for you."

"I'm on my way." He terminated the call and caught up his jacket. He had no idea what was this was about. Maybe they'd found something funky out there. It _was_ a park, after all – criminals loved to toss their murder weapons in the parks around the city. He fought off the urge to sigh. It was stupid to be disappointed that they were going to miss lunch. They ate together all the time. And he'd be with her, even if they didn't get to hang out at the diner. But he wanted her without their job interfering every twelve hours. It had never been a problem before. Time with Bones was time with Bones. It had all been good. It still was. He dragged his hand through his hair as he jogged down the stairs. Shit, he didn't even know what exactly he really wanted anymore.

Except Bones. He always wanted Bones. That never changed. He was probably just in a crabby mood from hunger. His good humor began to return as he fired up the Tahoe. She had an hour, and then he was dragging her away from the park so they could enjoy the rest of their Sunday like normal people. For some reason, since they'd started seeing each other their weekends had been interrupted regularly. He was trying not to resent it, but it was hard. Maybe it was only because what they had was new and fresh. He was probably just being overeager. Maybe over time...nope. Who was he kidding? He was never going to stop being overeager when it came to Bones. It hadn't faded in the years that he'd known her. He might as well just get used to it. Despite his hunger he felt his curiosity rising. Maybe this case would be interesting. Hell, when were their cases _not_ interesting? He tapped the siren in order to blow through the intersection and veered left onto Park Road. They always got the oddball cases. He thought back to their second file and how he'd chased after her until she named her terms for their partnership. Chuckling, he punched the gas. "Yeah, we are _so_ much better than Scully and Mulder."

Several traffic-filled minutes later he entered the park. Coasting into the parking area he spotted her slender form almost immediately, standing at the edge of the lot near her car. Eyes squinting into the sun from behind sunglasses; hands on hips. Toe tapping. Impatient. He grinned and swung into the spot closest to her. Some things never changed. "All right, Bones. Whadda ya got for me?"

Rather than immediately fill him in on the details, she gestured for him to follow her. "It's down the trail, southwest of our current location by approximately 1000 yards."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her tone and body language. Something was definitely off. She seemed normal enough, but she didn't have the professional air about her that she always assumed at a crime scene. He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Maybe it was because this wasn't actually a crime scene. She'd _had_ told him nothing was wrong. As they walked along the path, he peered ahead, his interest piqued. Didn't one of those fitness trails run through this area? Maybe she just wanted to go for a run. But as quickly as the thought arose he dismissed it. Neither of them was dressed for a run. Jeans were hardly comfortable, and while he did have his running shoes in the truck, she was wearing hiking boots.

Finally they reached a small shaded area set off a short distance from the path. Someone had just left or was about to return – the one picnic table that was there was loaded with plates and food. Food that smelled way too good. Damn. He ignored his rumbling stomach the best he could and wandered about the perimeter, scanning the bordering underbrush. As far as he could see, nothing was out of place. "Okay, so what am I looking for? Did someone find something?" Turning in a circle, he did a broad visual sweep of the area. "Where are the people?"

"What people?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"You know, the people who were here. Where did they go?"

"I don't know what you mean. There are no other people, Booth."

He turned to face her across the clearing, completely bewildered. "Then why are we here?"

"It occurred to me that every time we're together you've been making all of the arrangements. As I firmly believe in gender equality, I thought it was time I rectified that situation. "

"Arrangements?" Try as he might, he just couldn't figure out what hell she was talking about.

A small smile grew on her face at his confused expression. "Yes. You've planned all of our prior engagements, so I decided to perform that function today. I thought perhaps we could have lunch here, in the park." She indicated the picnic table. "I prepared several different items, as we don't prefer the same food."

"_You_ did this? All of this is for _us_?"

"Yes." She tried to check the urge to fidget. "Your appetite is a quite overwhelming, but I believe I brought a sufficient amount of food for both of us." When he looked at her without responding, she faltered slightly. "That is...if you're still hungry. You did say you were hungry..."

"Hungry. Yeah. Yeah, I'm hungry," he responded blankly, eyes fixed on the spread before him.

"Is this a problem?" She tipped her head, realization and disappointment seeping into her voice. "It is a problem. Your alpha-male nature is threatened." Resigned, she stiffened her spine. "I rejected what you perceive as your traditional role as the hunter-gatherer. We could just go to the diner, if you'd prefer that."

"What? I – what?" Alerted by the tone in her voice, he looked up and noticed her discomfiture. She had clearly misunderstood his stunned silence and was shifting awkwardly. "No! No, Bones. I was just surprised. You caught me off-guard, is all." As the shock faded, pleasure rushed in, and he found himself completely charmed. If someone had asked him what he and Bones would be doing today, this wouldn't even have been on the list. She wasn't demonstrative, but when she decided to do something she did it in a big way. Shifting gears smoothly, he sauntered toward her and looped his arms around her waist. A delighted smile played over his face as he pulled her close. "I can't believe you did this. It's a lot of work."

She let out another quiet breath. She had so little experience at this type of interaction. Oftentimes, when she thought she was doing something correctly it wound up being completely wrong. But perhaps this would be all right. He seemed quite happy. "It wasn't, actually. I'm quite highly organized. I don't often get a chance to cook, but I find that I enjoy it. It also allows for greater control over the ingredients."

Smoothing his fingertips up her cheek, he gently tweaked her sunglasses off her face. She was watching him intently, her eyes serious and full of reserve. It came to him in a flash. She'd never done this for anyone else. He was the first. With difficulty he remained casual. "Well, I think it's a lot of work. And I appreciate it."

"If you don't want to eat here, we could bring all of it to your apartment –"

"Absolutely not. This is perfect. It's a beautiful day, so we should enjoy it." Wanting to put her at ease, he dropped a quick, careless kiss on her lips and pulled her to the table. "Look at all of this!" No longer able to contain his enthusiasm or his hunger, he quickly sat at the bench and started digging through the dishes. "I tell you what, Bones, it's a good thing you made this much food for me. What are _you_ going to eat?"

Frowning in confusion, she settled onto the opposite bench. "No, the food is for _both_ of us, Booth." She caught the glint in his eye and canted her head to the side, pursing her mouth. "Are you serious?"

He grinned wolfishly and motioned for her to pass the napkins. "Nah. I eat a lot of food, but there's no way I could eat..." He trailed off, his eyes glazing over as they passed over a dish heaped with chicken wings. "Hold on. Are those buffalo wings from Ledo?"

"Yes. I remembered that you told me you thought they were very good, and I wanted to duplicate them. But the employees refused to give me the recipe for the sauce, so I was forced to purchase an order from them."

"Yeah, well, that's kinda the whole point." He grabbed the tray, licking his lips in anticipation. "This is gonna be so good. Hand me one of those sodas, will you?"

Plucking two small tubs out of a small brown paper bag, she slid them toward him. "I purchased extra sauce for the wings. I wasn't sure how much you would want."

His eyes glowed with anticipation and glee as he swiftly pried the lids up and off. "Well it's a good thing you did, 'cause I'm going to want a _lot_."

For some time neither spoke as they prepared their meals. "Is everything acceptable?"

"I can't believe you did all of this, Bones." He noted with an inward chuckle that he had easily double the amount of food on his plate as she did on hers. "Everything is really good." He wondered what she'd think if he just flopped backward off the bench and lay in the dirt. The wings were _that_ good. "You really need to try these. The sauce is out of this world."

"You know I don't eat wings, Booth."

"Yeah, but..." he countered, dipping a piece of celery in the spicy orange liquid, "...just because you don't eat wings doesn't mean you can't taste the sauce." Before she could respond he brought the vegetable to her lips, pleased when she automatically took a bite. He popped the rest in his mouth and raised an eyebrow at her. "Well?"

Still chewing, she raised her eyebrows, her wide, watering eyes speaking volumes.

"Uh-huh...it's good, isn't it?" He beamed, his eyes twinkling. "I knew you'd like it. It's got a nice kick."

"It's very hot." She sipped at her drink in a vain attempt to ease the burn on her tongue. "But the flavor is good. Try the mint lemonade. It's very refreshing. And the mushroom tortellini salad is surprisingly good."

He eyed her as he spooned the pasta onto his plate. She still seemed a little ill at ease, although she'd relaxed a lot since he'd first arrived. Obviously this was not a regular occurrence for her. While she was easily, casually generous on an everyday basis, he had no doubt that that was _not_ the case when it came to her relationships. Preparing this whole spread, going to the trouble to do this for someone would have put her in a vulnerable position. A position she hadn't willingly been in for a long time. He switched to the deviled eggs and chewed thoughtfully. To be honest, it did seem unusual for her to be doing this. She was not really a fan of spontaneity. Maybe he was having a little bit of an effect on her. She'd certainly had a good effect on him, in a lot of different ways. If he was able to help her realize that relaxing sometimes and having no plan was the best plan, then great. Casting about for something to say to relax her, he remembered the phone call he'd gotten earlier that day. "I heard from Reggie this morning."

"Reggie?" Pausing mid sip, Brennan tipped her head, a small smile appearing. "What did he want?"

"Nothing, really. We just talked for a while. He wants us to come down again."

"He called because he wants us to run the obstacle course again? That seems rather odd."

"No, although we should do that while we're down there. He wants us to come to dinner."

A small line appeared between her brows. "I don't understand."

"It's a social thing, Bones. He told Wendy about our last visit, and she's been bugging him to invite us ever since."

"Wendy. His wife...oh." She took another piece of celery, dipped it in the hot sauce. The cultural significance of the invitation was not lost on her. "I suppose that would be alright." She took a small bite of her watercress sandwich. "As a matter of fact, Angela has been asking me if we will have dinner with her and Jack again."

"Sure. Just let me know when."

"Oh." Slightly taken aback by his prompt acceptance, she hesitated. "All right."

He peered curiously at her. "What's the matter?"

"I guess I just didn't think you'd want to have dinner with them again."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well...the last time we had dinner with them, you argued with Jack most of the evening."

"Bones, that's not how it is."

She continued, certainty coloring her tone. "You bait him all the time. I see you. You were doing it again yesterday in the lab."

"How did you know?"

"He had that odd look on his face again. The look he only gets when you're teasing him."

A quick grin flashed across his face. "Oh yeah. The X-Files look."

"The _what_?"

"You know – 'The truth is out there'." When she only fixed him with a blank stare, he relented. "Hey, if I'm gonna go out with squints, I should at least get to have a little fun. Oh, by the way – guys don't toy with or tease other guys. They mess with them, or screw with them, or fuck with them. They _don't_ tease them."

She deftly unscrewed the lid to the lemonade. "I don't understand. Why is an appropriate word like 'tease' not acceptable, but numerous phrases describing sexual intercourse are all right?"

He dropped his head into his hands. "Way to go, Bones. Ruin _another_ chunk of my vocabulary." Glancing up, he caught the impish glint in her eye. "Wait a minute..."

Unable to hide her amusement, she flashed a saucy smile at him and picked up her drink. "I believe you called it messing with you?"

"Bones!" He stared at her with surprise. "You know, you pick up on stuff way too quickly." His lips curved slyly. "I'm gonna have to watch out for you."

With another smile she handed him a fresh can of soda.

He eagerly began wolfing down his meal, amazed that the healthy food she'd made easily rivaled his favorite standards. Although the day was balmy, the mosquitoes and other picnic-crashers were miraculously absent. For a while he lost himself to his appetite, only realizing as he was halfway through his third plate that she hadn't yet finished her first.

"Bones."

She slowly raised her head, and something curled in her eyes that he almost thought was guilt. "Yes?"

"You're not eating."

"Yes I am." She swept her hand over her plate, indicating its contents.

"No, you _have_ food but you're not eating it. You okay?"

"I'm fine, Booth."

He gave her a long, measured look and returned to his meal without pressing the issue.

She slowly began eating, but stopped abruptly. With a keen sense of irritation she realized she was falling into the same predictable pattern of behavior. She had to be honest with Booth. He deserved that much from her. Sighing, she put down her fork. "Actually, you are correct. I wanted to say something to you."

Something was wrong...she was clearly troubled. He pushed his plate away and cocked his head. "Okay."

"I would like to apologize."

Her straightforward declaration threw him. He hadn't been expecting that. Bones was _not_ the type of person who apologized often. "Apologize?"

"Yes. And thank you, as well."

"Thank me...Bones, what's going on? What are you talking about?" For once, she'd truly managed to stump him. Why was she apologizing?

"I wanted to thank you for what happened in Warm Springs. For what you said, and what you did." Distress welled up at the very thought of that night, and her throat worked spasmodically as she fought to control her voice.

His heart ached for her all over again when he saw how upset she was getting. He hadn't been able to help her then, and he probably wouldn't be able to now. "You know, we just talked. I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you _did._"

Her sudden vehemence shocked him into silence. Her face was set, her eyes burning with barely-contained emotion. He wanted to go to her, hold her until the haunted look left her face. But she needed to say this. It was obviously important to her. He shut his mouth and waited.

"You did." She deliberately relaxed her fingers before continuing. "I never told anyone about my past. Other than Angela, no one ever found out about those things. And the only reason she knows is because she was there for part of it." She fidgeted uneasily on the hard bench. "I never thought I would tell anyone. But I told you."

"It's okay, Bones."

"I know. It _is_ okay. It's okay that I told you." She took a deep breath and cleared her throat before speaking again. "I was afraid to tell you. But I knew it would be all right. I knew I could tell you and you wouldn't...I knew I could tell you. That you would support me."

He leaned forward. "Of course I would. I'll always support you, no matter what. You were right to think that."

"Yes. And that is why I have to apologize to you."

"Bones, you don't have anything to apologize for. You haven't done anything wrong."

"I haven't done anything at all. That's what I did wrong." He didn't understand her. It was hardly a surprise, since she was being ambiguous at best. She swallowed and tried again. "Our partnership has been unequal. Numerous times in the past you've supported me and helped me with difficult personal situations. As I am sure you are aware, I have no discernable talent when it comes to emotional complications."

"That's not true, Bones. You're just out of practice."

"Please."

It wasn't much. It was one simple word. But it stopped him cold. If she really needed to get this off her chest, then fine. He'd listen. "I'm sorry. Go ahead."

Heedless of the beautiful day around them, she locked her hands tightly in her lap and took another deep breath. "You've helped me many times. You've reassured me when I doubted myself and my responses. But I haven't done the same. I've had some time to think about this. I realize that I haven't supported you, and I'm sorry."

"Bones..."

"Please don't say it. Don't tell me it's not true. I know it's true. You said that's what partners do – they support each other in everything, both personal and professional. Professionally, I've helped you the best I could. But I haven't helped you personally. I want to rectify that." She looked at him with earnest eyes. "I want you to be able to depend on me the way I'm able to depend on you."

"I do, Bones. I do depend on you. I depend on you for everything." He shrugged in reaction to her disbelieving stare. "It's true. When I have to talk to someone, it's you. It's always been you." It had been her since nearly the first day they'd met. He cautiously kept that bit of information to himself. "And I don't know about anyone else, but you give me good advice when I need it. You've always been there for me. So don't beat yourself up too much, okay?" She wasn't quite convinced; that much was clear. Absurdly touched that she would feel so strongly the need to apologize, he slid his plate away and stood.

Still wrestling with what he'd said, she watched him round the picnic table. She'd only wanted to tell him she was wrong, but he didn't appear to want her to do so. It was confusing.

Straddling the bench, he faced her and braced his palms in front of him. He angled forward so he was close, close enough that he could see the faint ring of lighter blue around her pupils. "Okay?"

His proximity was overwhelming her. So many times when she was upset, he held her. A part of her wanted that now, but she had to try again to make him understand. "I just want to put things right between us."

"Well, you don't need to do that, because they're already right. Listen…we argue all the time. Don't you think I would have told you if something was bothering me?"

"I…I suppose you might have."

"I would have. You know I would have. You and I have never pulled punches with each other. C'mere." Curling his hand around her waist, he pulled at her until she was facing sideways as well, her back pressing firmly against his chest. "I appreciate that you cared enough to say something. And if you need me to accept your apology, then I do. But it's not a problem. I don't want you to worry about it anymore."

Lulled by the warmth of his body against hers, she felt a calmness sneaking through her. "Booth..."

"Shhh." He leaned back slightly, sliding his arms around her waist and locking his fingers together. She went with him easily, her head tipping back onto his shoulder and her legs stretching out on the bench. Her soft hair brushed gently against his cheek, and he felt her exhale as her tension finally faded; a long, quiet release of air that loosened her back and relaxed her shoulders. He sat with her for several minutes, relishing the softness of her body leaning against him, the feel of her small hands on his. She seemed content for once to simply _be_. He stopped thinking altogether, instead enjoying the warm breeze pushing past them, the aroma of the food and the surrounding woods.

Joggers flitted down the path, their bright colors and happy laughs trickling through the distance to them. Birds darted from tree to bush and bush to tree, their colorful songs echoing. Sun and shadows trekked relentlessly across the clearing, first highlighting and then darkening the bench where they still sat, back to front, arm to arm. He'd lost track of just how long they'd been sitting when he felt her move. Quietly she turned her head to him and just as quietly he dropped his mouth to hers, taking in licks of heat from the hot sauce and from her. Her lips trembled under his, and he almost convulsively tightened his grip. Slow and sure, his hand slid under the hem of her shirt, finding and caressing the soft skin underneath. Her answering hum made his blood simmer in an entirely satisfying way. "Bones..." he murmured, letting his mouth drift to her jaw.

Her only answer was a soft trembling gasp as she strained against him.

"Bones...what do you say we bring this back to my place?" She didn't answer, but twisted further toward him, her own hand drifting under his shirt. He almost moaned at the feel of her thumb tracing circles on his stomach. "Bones..." She shivered once more and pulled away slightly. Her eyes were hazy with desire. But there was something more... "What is it?"

"Booth."

Her voice was shaking, the husky tone making him want to drag her to the ground then and there. She was nearly shuddering against him, driving him mad with her responsiveness. He couldn't resist tasting her again. Finally he backed off, resting his forehead against hers for a moment while he fought to calm down. "Yeah, Bones?"

"Do you think...could we sit here for a little longer?"

"You want to stay here?" More surprised by her request than he'd been by her impromptu lunch, he looked wonderingly at her. Normally, she'd be the one dragging _him_ off to the bedroom. "Are you sure?"

"Yes...if that's all right with you. We can go back a little later. Of course...we can go now if you want, but..." Giving in to her nerves, she faced away from him and leaned back again, pressing gratefully into his solidness. When she spoke again, she was almost whispering. "This is nice."

He blinked. A warm rush ran through him and he wrapped his arms around her again. "We can stay as long as you want. The apartment's not going anywhere. And you're right." He rubbed his temple against hers, emotion roughening his voice. "This is very nice."

**All together now - _sighhhhhhh..._** :)


End file.
